


I speak of terrible things

by o0Anapher0o



Series: And now and then a white elephant [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Family Found and Otherwise, Fluff and Angst, Serial Killers, Traveling, bad things happen to OCs, booknerds bonding, parenting, past trauma, shameless promoting of the beauties of Adelaide, surprisingly few Shakespeare references, various forms of abuse against women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 89,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: Of course it’s Jack’s first day off since he moved in at Wardlow that Phryne finds a particularly gruesome murder. The castrated dead man by the river, however, is only the beginning of a case full of horrid people and their victims, and soon enough Jack starts wishing he had just stayed home.In other news: Phrack chasing a serial killer while dealing with the small and large trials of being a co-habitating couple, parenting and ghosts of the past that just refuse to be laid to rest.
Relationships: Hugh Collins/Dorothy "Dot" Williams, Phryne Fisher & Elizabeth MacMillan, Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson & Jane Ross, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Series: And now and then a white elephant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407097
Comments: 212
Kudos: 102





	1. Vapours from the River

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished the third part of this series. Only took me just under a year.  
> A little warning, this one is a good deal darker than the previous two stories. There will be discussion of rape and abuse and the aftermath of it. Nothing graphic, actually focusing on the aftermath and I promise all canon characters are completely safe, beyond anything that is already hinted at in the show. Please mind tags and warnings.  
> I know that people feel, rightfully, quite sensitive about this topic and I have no intention of offending anyone. I tried to be as truthful as I can, from my own limited point of view.  
> Right, on the bright side, since it deals with such a heavy topic, for my own sanity I needed to cram as much fluff into this fic as I possibly could.  
> Title and chapter titles taken from Ovid’s Metamorphoses in the translation by Anthony S. Kline,  
> https://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Ovhome.htm . More in the end note to chapter 1.  
> Unfortunately yet again unbeta’d. Sorry for all and any mistakes.  
> I still don’t own any characters, events and quotes from the TV show.

Jack closed the door to his room. His room. In Wardlow. He was still getting used to that concept. It wasn’t as if there was any room in the house he wasn’t welcome in, except Jane’s room and Mr Butler’s quarters perhaps, but this one was exclusively his. When they had finally gotten to the point where he could move in a few weeks ago, Phryne had immediately cleared out one of the guest rooms and declared it his personal realm. "A woman isn‘t the only who needs a room of her own." she had explained. "And who needs five guestrooms anyway."  
There was space here for his own furniture, what little he had brought with him from his apartment, and the things he didn’t want to be lying aroud the house. Mostly his books. One of Phryne’s welcome gifts had been another shelf to store them, perfectly matching his own ones, of course. The curtains were new, as well. Well, semi-new; Mrs Collins had gotten her hands on Jack’s old curtains and decided they were still good to use, but needed a little sorting to fit in with Wardlow, even if it was in his room. He didn’t mind, he wasn’t particularly attached to them. His desk, his chairs and the small piano were a different matter and they had found a good home here. It felt a little absurd to have two pianos in the house, but the old upright was easily his most precious possession, both in monetary and sentimental value, and he was loath to relinquish it. But as it was old and desperately needed a new coat of paint there was no question of it replacing the baby grand in the parlour. Phryne didn’t seem to mind so he tried not to either. He hadn’t brought much furniture from his apartment otherwise, mostly because hers were much better quality and fitted with the decor of the house. But since he hadn’t much cared about his kitchen chairs and table, all things he had only bought after his divorce, he was perfectly fine with that. It would probably also take a bit more time for him to feel at home here enough to feel like he had the right to contribute to the furnishing of the house. He didn’t worry about it too much. He had brought his chest of drawers, which had taken up residence in the bedroom directly under the Sarcelle painting, and his mother’s good tea set, which he had been equally surprised and delighted to see Mr Butler put to immediate use. For work days of course.  
He still needed to do some unpacking though. His stuff had been boxed and moved here, so his flat was vacant again, but he hadn’t gotten around to emptying all the boxes yet. There were still four or five of them, mostly more books, waiting in the corner.  
He hadn’t brought his bed and there was none in his room now. They had agreed fairly quickly that separate bedrooms were not something either of them wanted. And should the need ever arise, god forbid, there were still four guestrooms left.  
Jack was stirred from his reverie by a knock on the door, quickly followed by Jane. The girl had retuned from her European travels in June, after the school year had officially ended there. They had waited with the engagement party for her to come home and now she was still on holiday before her last year of school before university would start in a few months.  
"Still not done?" she asked with a pointed look at the boxes.  
"I’ve been thinking about reorganising them while I have them out." Jack admitted.  
Jane’s eyes instantly lit up.  
"How?" she asked with the enthusiasm of a true bibliophile.  
"I’m not sure." he said. "Country of origin for the fiction sounds fun."  
Jane beamed. "Need help?"  
Jack almost laughed at her eagerness, but shook his head. "I won’t be starting right now." he decided much to the girls dismay. "But did you want anything else?"  
Jane perked up. "Yes, I wanted to ask if I could borrow your Ovid." she said.  
"Sure." Jack reached for the already unpacked part of his library and handed her the Metamorphoses.  
"Er, not that one, the other." Jane said a little sheepishly.  
Jack raised a quizzical eyebrow and taking down the Ars Amamatoria instead. "Should I be worried?"  
Jane rolled her eyes. "It’s a satire." she pointed out. "And it’s not considered an obscene publication, is it?"  
"Only because no one put up a case for that yet." Jack muttered.  
Jane rolled her eyes even more. "So I have to read it before that happens." she insisted. "There was already a case in America where a translation has been seized by customs, so I have to hurry."  
Jack merely shook his head. Overeager police work like that only created more interest in the work than suppress its consumption, in his experience, Jane being a case in point. However, "There are definitely worse books in this house you could be reading." he decided, relinquishing the tome. He selected a book of his own and followed Jane down the stairs.  
Before he could get to the parlour, though, he was intercepted by Dot. She looked rather glad he had come down, so she didn’t have to climb up the stairs. She was in the last weeks of her pregnancy and although she insisted she was still fit to work, she was thankful for every step she didn’t have to take. "Miss Fisher just called, Inspector." she reported. "There has been a murder. And she said, she knows it’s your day off, but you’d want to see that." Dot added before Jack could even open his mouth to protest. "She’s already called the station." Jack threw a longing glance at the parlour doors and sighed deeply. You really couldn’t leave that woman alone for five minutes without her stumbling over a dead body.  
"Alright, Mrs Collins, where is it?"  
"In Cremorne, by the river. I wrote down the address." Dot handed him a note. "She also said, she hopes you had a light breakfast."

When Doctor Elisabeth MacMillan entered the crime scene she was somewhere caught between grinning and cringing. The amusing part was a number of, mostly young, police officers, all slightly green around the nose, some of them subconsciously clinging their thighs together. The less amusing part was the dead man kneeling in his own blood with no trousers on. Next to the body, careful not to spoil her white fur stole or shoes crouched her old friend Phryne Fisher, for reasons Mac didn’t even want to guess.  
“Morning Mac,” Miss Fisher greeted her cheerfully. “Let me guess, he died of exsanguination?”  
The coroner crouched down in front of the body to have a look at the part of the man she wouldn’t usually be interested in, had it been where it was supposed to be. Instead there was a gashing wound around which the blood only slowly started to congregate.  
“That would be my first guess.” she agreed. “Looks like someone took a very sharp knife to him and then just waited for him to bleed out.” she observed. “How is he still upright?”  
Phryne pointed at something behind the corps’ back. “They used his braces to tie his hands to his trousers after they pulled them down to his ankles and then tie him to the lamppost.” she explained.  
Mac nodded. “That would do the trick.”  
“When do you think he died?” Inspector Robinson chimed in.  
He was standing behind Phryne, also examining the knot work. He, too, was a little more pasty around the nose than he usually looked, but held himself admirably upright.  
Mac continued her examination. “I’d put his death at around five or six am, but he would have taken about two or three hours to bleed out like this, maybe a little less.” she decreed finally.  
“So he was put here at around three.” Jack nodded.  
“Have we found the missing piece?” Mac inquired.  
The Inspector paled a little more, but shook his head. “There’s a blood trail that suggests it was dumped in the river.” he said.  
Miss Fisher rose to her feet and examined the area. For once Jack was truly grateful she was here, even if he had no idea why or how yet. But he was well aware that most of his constables were too distracted by the corpse to be of much use with the rest of the crime scene. Phryne and Mac had a distinct advantage over any man on sight, himself included. He couldn’t help the sympathetic shudder whenever he just as much as thought of the victim. For once Phryne had been wrong: He definitely had not wanted to see that.  
"Over here Jack!" Miss Fisher had followed the blood trail to the edge of the river and was now closely examining something on the ground. Jack followed her, only too happy to leave the gruesome sight behind him.  
"I think our killer is a woman." She stated and pointed at the print of a shoe in the mud. It wasn’t a full print unfortunately and not a very good one either, but it was definitely a woman’s shoe.  
"Can’t say I expected anything else." Mac commented. She had followed Jack to the river, after she had finished her preliminary examination. Jack could only agree. He couldn’t believe a man would ever do this to another man, despite his extensive experience that taught him people did horrible things to each other. But if there was ever a line to be drawn, that was certainly it.  
"Judging from the blood trail, you’re right Inspector" Mac continued, "about the amputated pieces being dropped in the river. Which means we’ll probably never find them. Not that it’ll tell us much."  
"Oh, I’ve found you can tell a lot about a man by looking closely at that part." Phryne disagreed with a wicked grin on her face. Mac rolled her eyes at her.  
"Not when it’s been cut off, Darling." she said.  
Jack audibly cleared his throat. "This is really not an appropriate conversation given the circumstances." he chided and turned away to get Collins to take a cast of the footprint. The two women exchanged an amused look, but decided not to torture the men folk any more. For now.

Mac had the body removed as soon as she had the clear from the police photographer. An audible sigh of relieve echoed through the males on scene.  
"I call you as soon as I’m done, Jack." the doctor promised and headed off to follow her corpse.  
"Anything else, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked, "Or would you accompany me back to the station?"  
Phryne gave him a coquettish grin. "You now I’d go anywhere with you, Jack." she replied. "And I don’t think there is much more here to see. Our murderer was rather careful, I think."  
"What exactly were you doing at this crime scene?" Jack asked as they were walking back to the cars. Mostly he was trying to get his mind off the image of the victim kneeling there, but a part of him was curious, too.  
"I thought you had an appointment this morning."  
"I did" she agreed innocently. "With Mr Keeley, in his factory, over there." she pointed at a indescribably ugly building just a few yards away. "Delicate domestic matter."  
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Not another missing child I hope." he inquired.  
"No, thank god." Phryne shuddered. "Merely a missing engagement ring. Which the fiancée had clearly hocked to pay for an abortion." she gave him a sideways look from under her lashes to judge his reaction. He didn’t show any. "I declined the case." Jack nodded.  
"Good thing I didn’t give you an engagement ring then." he stated.  
"Of course not. You weren’t the one proposing." she returned. The smile she got for that was tiny, but so wicked it was all she could do not to jump him right then and there.  
"See you at the station, Miss Fisher." he said. "And do try not to break every traffic law you encounter on the way."  
She most likely didn’t break all of them, but she couldn’t be entirely sure, since she was a little distracted trying to get her equanimity back. The couple of minutes she arrived before him helped. But as soon as he stepped through his office door, saw her sitting, waiting, on his desk and he had to school his face from unabashed adoration to an exasperated scowl, she was right back where she had started. Not for the first time it occurred to her what that man, her fiancé, god help her, did to her would be utterly inacceptable, if it didn’t feel so unbearably nice.  
"Alarmingly good time, as always, Miss Fisher." he said.  
"Really, Inspector? And here I thought you were just giving me a head start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting right down to it with the notes:  
> In the first paragraph Phryne references Virginia Woolf’s famous feminist essay ‘A room of one’s own’, which was first published in 1929 and you cannot tell me Phryne didn’t read the moment she could get her hands on it. And then she made Dot read it. 
> 
> Scratch_pad in their brilliantly helpful ‘Money meta’ (which I will never get tired giving kudos to anyway I can) states that Wardlow has five guestrooms. I’m assuming they researched the actual building. In any case, judging from the number of overnight guests in ‘Death Comes Knocking’ (2x2) there are at least four (if we assume Maude and Freddy shared a room, five if they didn’t).
> 
> Ovid: Publius Ovidius Naso, commonly known as Ovid. He was a roman poet around the time of Augustus. His most famous work is The Metamorphoses, a narrative poem retelling the myths of change, chronicling the history of the world from its creation. The chapter titles come mainly from the stories of Daphne, Io, Callisto and Philomela.  
> The Ars Amatoria (‘The Art of Love’) is an early work; an instructual elegy series on the topic of love and wooing. It’s a bit racy at times, but not really graphic to modern sensibilities. I did a bit of research on the obscene and indecent publications act (actually the ‘Obscene Publications act 1857 aka Lord Campbell’s Act; yet again I’m not sure this one would have even applied to Australia) but I couldn’t find whether it was ever illegal. The whole thing seems to have been more of a case to case decision rather than an actual blacklist, so eternally optimistic I opted for no.  
> The story about it being seized by American customs is true though, that happened in 1930, although it seems to have been an isolated incident.


	2. Letters Drawn in Dust

"So, what now, Jack?" Phryne asked still in that teasing tone.  
"Now, Miss Fisher, I will have to get started on the paperwork of the case you so generously bestowed upon me, while we wait for the coroner’s report and an ID on the victim. I’ve sent Constables out with a picture of the deceased to ask around the local factories and hotels if anyone knows him. I’m afraid there isn’t much else I can do at the moment."  
"And to tell me that you lured me to the station under false pretences, Inspector?" she accused.  
"I merely assumed you’d come here anyways." he retorted. "And I could use your expertise on the print you found. I can tell it’s a woman’s shoe, but that’s about it."  
Hugh brought in the cast of the print right on cue. It wasn’t quite dry yet. Phryne examined the piece of plaster carefully.  
"Middling size" she assessed, "And not a very elegant shoe. Not exactly a boot, but something sturdy, probably middling price range as well. Something worn for work, I’d say. The kind of work that keeps you on your feet a lot, but doesn’t bother with how you look."  
Jack nodded. "So, what?" he asked. "Factory worker?"  
"Possible" she agreed, "Or almost any kind of servant, nurse, Nunn, barmaid, someone working in a shop or at a market stall. There are plenty of possibilities."  
"So that doesn’t really narrow it down." he summed up with a sigh.  
"Dot could probably do better, but I’d loath for her to have to come all the way here." she suggested.  
Jack gave her an exasperated look, but he had to agree, that Mrs Collins a) was probably the better bet on getting anything on those shoes, and b) was in no condition to be ushered to and fro. The last thing he needed today was a woman going into labour at his police station.  
"Bring it back." he ordered and handed her the cast.

Dot greeted her when Phryne arrived back at Wardlow. She had taken a seat in the parlour where she was busying herself with needle work. There were several of Miss Fisher’s knickers that were in dire need of repair. And there always seemed to be buttons missing from at least one of the Inspector’s shirts these days. She usually decided not to think about that too closely. Even as a married woman and soon to be mother she was still Miss Fisher’s companion and as such it just seemed wrong to contemplate whatever was going on between her and the Inspector in her, their, bedroom. Even now that they were officially engaged. She was just glad for the work, since there wasn’t much else she was still able to do these days and she had already knitted, crocheted and sown more jumpers, hat’s and shoes than her baby would ever need. Buttons and fine seams where a welcome distraction.  
"Good morning, Miss." she greeted her employer cheerfully.  
She hesitated to ask how the investigation was going. It seemed hardly appropriate to ask about a murder like you talked about the weather, even after all that time with Miss Fisher. Jane on the other hand, curled up in the window seat with a book, had no such qualms.  
"Who’s the murderer?" the girl asked without even lifting her eyes from the page.  
"We don’t even know who the victim is yet," Phryne replied with a fond eye roll, "but I did bring some evidence for you to look at, Dot." she added and pulled a piece of plaster from an evidence bag. Dot carefully took it in hand and examined it.  
"There’s been some more mail this morning Miss." she said while focused on the shoeprint. "More telegrams and congratulations."  
Phryne nodded, but didn’t feel like picking up the pile from the table. Probably just more of the same and she truly couldn’t think of anyone who could have written her, who hadn’t congratulated them already.  
They had done it exactly as Mac had initially suggested: an announcement in the papers and an engagement party, the preparation of which had only been interrupted by one murder, quickly solved. The party itself had turned out a much bigger affair than either of them had bargained for, curtsy of Aunt Prudence, who had insisted on hosting the event. As it turned out she was much fonder of the idea of her niece getting engaged to a lowly civil servant than either of them had expected. Although Jack had voiced the suspicion that it was more the fact that she was getting engaged at all, and the who-to part was rather secondary. Phryne maintained that Aunt P liked him a lot more than he would ever believe, or she would ever admit to.  
In either case her aunt had organised a party to rival the one for her own son. Jack and Phryne had barely held on to control over the guest list, and only after Prudence had already made a first draft. The result had been an unusually mixed group. Important people from Melbourne’s upper crust had been invited, along with what seemed to Phryne like half of the Victorian Police. Among them friends, family, inherited and found. With very few exceptions; they had both refrained form inviting any ‘old friends’, although Phryne had generously offered to invite Concetta. For herself there were a couple of people she simply couldn’t not invite, like Lin Chung and Camelia and the Freeman brothers. Jack had said he understood which he probably truly did, and had generally taken it admirably. He still didn’t like Lin, but he had been polite as ever. She had almost been disappointed by his apparent indifference.  
The red raggers had been there, Bert flirting outrageously with Aunt Prudence who, after the third glass of sherry had stopped chastising him for it and, to everyone’s surprise and delight, started to flirt right back; Samson from the circus had come and several of Jack’s friends from the war and his days in the police academy.  
To Aunt P’s great disappointment the Chief Prosecutor had to cancel, because Jack had arrested his right hand man for running a cocaine ring the night before. Including the man’s wife, who had also been involved, that had led to three guests less, not that anyone would have noticed. And the Chief Commissioner had surprised and delighted Phryne with a rather magnificent singing voice.  
All in all the whole undertaking had been a roaring success. It had the world thoroughly convinced the Honourable Phryne Fisher had finally yielded to convention and, what was much more important, Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was no longer at risk of being regarded as having a scandalous affair that could damage his reputation as a police officer. Other than the interest of the gossip columns however, the flood of congratulatory letters and telegrams had not yet abated since the announcement, despite all probability.

"I don’t believe it belongs to a factory worker, Miss." Dot’s voice cut through her musings. "It’s too new and even. It looks more like the walking boots Hugh gave me for my birthday two years ago. A size six, maybe. I’d say it’s good quality work though."  
Phryne pulled herself together and focused on what her companion had said. "Thank you Dot." she said. "I’m sure that’ll be quite helpful." She picked up the letters and stuffed them into her purse.  
"I was going to head back to the station to see if they have any news on our victim. Would you like to come along and bring Hugh some lunch?" she asked.  
Dot shook her head. "Oh no, thank you, Miss." she declined only to quickly add, "I’d love to see Hugh, but I’m not sure I can stomach the ride.” Phryne nodded understandingly.  
"Don’t worry Dot." she said cheerfully. "I’ll just take Hugh’s share along with me."  
Dot still looked a little uncertain. "Is it really alright, Miss? Me just sitting in the house all day? I know I’m not much help with your investigation at the moment, but..."  
"Don’t worry Dot." Phryne interrupted her. "As much as I ordinarily depend on your help, I suppose I can muddle through just this once." she sent her friend a wicked smile. "I’ll just have to make Hugh and Jack work harder instead. And whenever the gentlemen won’t suffice, well, if the mountain can’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain. Like this." she added, to dispel the confused look on Dot’s face and picked up the cast from the shoe. "Jack insisted I bring it back since it’s evidence."  
Finally she got a relieved smile on her friends face. "Of course Miss. I hope I could help."  
"I’m sure you could." Phryne assured her warmly. "And to be honest Dot, I’m a little glad you’re not too involved with this case. The body really wasn’t a pleasant sight." she sighed despite herself, "I have a feeling like there is a lot of ugliness coming our way with this case and it might not come to a very happy conclusion."

Being Senior Constable, technically, meant that Hugh was supposed to be doing more organising and delegating now, and a little less of the actual legwork. However, he only had tree men to pound the streets trying to find someone who knew their victim, the Victorian Police being chronically understaffed as it was. So while he did organise the search, he was also most definitely part of it, too. He was all the more proud that it was only about three hours later that he could announce to the Inspector: "We have identified the victim, Sir."  
Hugh handed Jack a file, which the Inspector quickly grabbed before Miss Fisher could intercept it. Lunch of course had long been brought and consumed, although there was still a bit waiting in the basket for Hugh and Jack’s appetite had been unusually dim.  
"Charles Boyd." Jack red out loud, "34 years of age, lived in Fitzroy. Prior arrests include drunken disorderly, assault, soliciting and harassment."  
"Sounds like a lovely fellow." Phryne commented dryly.  
Jack gave her a look. "Bert‘s file looks worse than this." he pointed out.  
"Yes, but no one has yet felt the need to castrate Bert and let him bleed out like a pig. And I doubt anyone ever will." she retorted.  
Jack cocked his head in agreement, if only just.  
"He was identified by one of his mate’s, a Mr Henry Morley, Sir." Hugh continued his report. "Apparently they’re both regular’s in a pub in Cremorne, near the factory where they worked and that’s where they were last night. They left around eleven; that was the last time Morley saw him."  
"Very good Collins. And where is Mr Morley?"  
"Uhm, he had to go back to the factory, Sir." Hugh replied a little sheepishly. "We only got him during his lunch break and he said he couldn’t afford loosing his job. But," Hugh’s face lit up, "Mr Ryland is here, the owner of the hotel where Mr Boyd was last seen alive. And," he handed over a second manila folder, "I also got Mr Morley’s file."  
His superior just nodded. Jack tried not to berate Hugh for letting a witness loose, especially not one with a record this large and versatile. He knew Hugh had a big heart and these were difficult times, especially for factory workers. So he left it at the gentle hint, that a murder investigation couldn’t always accommodate important witnesses and potential suspects. Hugh blushed deeply and promised to get a hold of Morley as quickly as possible.  
In the meantime Phryne scanned through his file. "Another lovely customer." she decreed. "Him and Boyd seemed to have been thick as thieves, judging from their arrest records, sometimes quite literally" she observed, pointing at a couple of arrests for petty theft in Morley’s file that curiously coincided with Boyd’s charges for loitering and public disturbance.  
Jack huffed. "Let’s just hope Morley didn’t leg it, for your sake, Collins." he muttered. Hugh visibly paled. Phryne gave Jack and admonishing look.  
"Don’t worry Hugh, I’m sure we’ll find him again." she said kindly.  
Jack sighed. "Better get on to that, though, Collins. And send the publican in."  
"Yes, Sir." Hugh was still a little pale but he hurried out, to fix whatever he could.


	3. The Wild Beasts' Lairs

Abe Ryland suspiciously peered from one of the two detectives facing him to the other.  
"I haven’t seen Charlie since yesterday." he said defiantly, before either investigator could even begin to question him.  
"And when did you last see him?" Jack asked.  
"When ‘e left me pub." Mr Ryland replied evasively.  
"And what time was that?" Jack insisted, not being derailed. The innkeeper fixated him.  
"Can’t ha’been after six now, can it? That’d be illegal." he stated, daring anyone to disprove him.  
Jack just lifted an eyebrow a fraction.  
"I don’t care that you’ve been breaking curfew." he stated, "I’m investigating a murder. I need to know when Boyd was last seen alive."  
Ryland rumbled a little, but couldn’t be moved to confirm the Inspector’s suspicion, not even when confronted with the victim’s friend’s statement that they had left at eleven. Jack had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.  
"Was he alone when he left?" he changed tracks to steer the conversation into safer waters.  
"Nah." As soon as the threat to his establishment was averted Ryland didn’t have any problem sharing it seemed. "It was ‘im and Harry Morley and some Sheila that was hangin’ by ‘is neck."  
"What woman was that?" Phryne inquired.  
The barkeeper shrugged. "Never seen ’er ‘round before. None of the usual trash Charlie would have with ‘im. At least she didn’t look like a working girl. Clung to ’im like a limpet though. Got worse with every drink. I‘d a mind of chucking ‘er out when they came in, what with what ’appened with Franny Cary last week, but she seemed quiet enough so I let ‘em stay."  
"Who is Franny Cary?" Miss Fisher immediately picked up a bit of potentially useful information.  
Ryland gave her an obscene look, but answered freely, not taking his eyes off her. "She’s a whore." he said with great pleasure.  
He seemed a little disappointed Phryne didn’t show any signs of shock at his crude language, so he turned back to the Inspector and put on his most innocent face. "I know it ain’t right or legal, but it’s bad times and them girls can’t find no other work. Sometimes I let ‘em stay in the pub for a bit, get ‘em out of the cold, you know. It’s nasty being out on the street this time a’year."  
Jack kept his face placid, despite the revulsion he felt for this man. "And what happened between Miss Cary and Mr Boyd?" he asked calmly.  
"Why, Charlie had taken a likin’ to Franny, didn’t ‘e. And she was eager enough to fleece ‘im, so everyone was ‘appy. And then last week ‘e came to ‘er and she went nuts, didn’t she. Nearly scratched ‘is eyes out. Couldn’t let ‘er come back in after that, now could I?"  
Both detectives were rather relieved when Mr Ryland had finished his statement and left Jack’s office. Phryne allowed herself a disgusted shudder.  
"I really hope horrid men aren’t becoming a theme with this case." she said, "Otherwise I might actually be tempted to leave it alone."  
Jack gave her a sceptical tilt of his head. "That’d be a first." he stated dryly, "Since when are you deterred by a few unsavoury types, Miss Fisher?"  
"I’m not deterred, Inspector." she defended herself, "He just reminds me of a gambling mate of my father’s before we went to England. He’d always hug me when he came by and hold on just a tad longer than was strictly necessary or comfortable. Always made me feel like I needed a good scrub after. And I wasn’t nearly as fond of bathing as a girl as I am now. I bet Mr Ryland is the type who let the poor girls pay him in favours for the generosity of letting them into his establishment."  
Jack had to agree with her there. He felt sorely tempted to order a raid on Mr Ryland’s pub, in spite of what he had told him. Serving alcohol after hours was normally one of the cases where he’d defer to being the laws servant not it’s master and settle for being a slightly neglectful servant, but it could be a good way of getting to nasty characters who remained out of the laws reach otherwise. And Mr Ryland was just such a case.

It was almost five and Jack was more than ready to call it a day, when Hugh put his head through the door again and declared that they had found Mr Morley again.  
"He was still at the factory, Sir." the Constable told them almost rebelliously.  
"Good for us, Collins." Jack stated, internally relieved the man hadn’t done a runner, "Bring him in."  
Henry Morley was a wiry fellow whose eyes were constantly moving about the room. He could have had the word ’shifty’ tattooed on his forehead and it couldn’t have made it any more apparent, even without previous knowledge of his criminal record. He was understandably unhappy with being dragged to the police station and interviewed after his shift at the factory. Everything in his posture said ‘I’m only doing this for my mate’. He confirmed again that the two had gone for an after work drink in Ryland’s pub and left about eleven.  
"What about the woman?" Phryne asked.  
Morley’s eyes flickered to her and sized her up.  
"Yeah, her." he said, sounding anything but impressed, "Hooker on ‘er first night out, if yer asking me. She’s three sheets to the wind when she came up to us in the pub. Knew how to pick a target though. She came on to Charlie like she could smell it. Charlie tends to get lonely at night." He said with a leer. "She wasn’t very economical with ‘er time though. Clung to Charlie all night. At least she got a couple a’ drinks out of ‘im."  
"So they left together?" Jack inquired.  
Morley nodded. "Yep. She was still with ‘im, when I left ‘em." he confirmed.  
"Did Mr Boyd have any enemies?" Jack continued.  
Morley shrugged. "None that woulda killed him."  
The Inspector pointedly looked at Boyd’s police file. "Are you sure?"  
"Look," Morley leaned in familiarly, "I know Charlie wasn’t no angel and ‘e could rile people up, get in rows and all that. But you wouldn’t kill a man for that. You smack ‘im in the face, have a few words and it’s done."  
"What about his altercation with Franny Cary?" Phryne interjected.  
Morley looked up to her surprised. "Franny? How do you...?" his face contorted in disgust, "Abe you bastard." he muttered under his breath, "That was nothing. Charlie was a regular with Franny. Don’t know why, really, I’ve seen prettier dogs, but he’d taken a likin’ to ‘er. They would meet in the Pub, Abe let’s the hookers come in there late. But, when was it, last week? Franny came in and went bonkers on Charlie. Called him names, tryin’ to hit ’im. She went completely nuts. Abe kicked her out after that and Charlie laughed it off. I reckoned she’d seen him with another whore, maybe he’d made her promises, or maybe she’d just lost her marbles. ‘appens. I seen in it in the war all the time."  
Jack let out a deep breath once their witness finally cleared off. "He’s even more charming than his file suggests." Phryne noted.  
He nodded. "Welcome to police work at the wrong end of town, Miss Fisher." he said dryly.  
It wasn’t often that he got these kinds of cases anymore these days. One of the upsides of being at City South was that his jurisdiction mostly covered nicer neighbourhoods. Those held their own challenges, like rich, influential people who thought themselves above the law. Jack had learned early in this career that class didn’t make a difference in the horrors humans could bestow upon each other, but at least the upper crust usually disguised their ugliness under refined manners and you didn’t have to deal with the hopelessness poverty could bring on a daily basis. He had to admit that this case was one he would have been happy enough to leave to the Richmond guys.  
"I could really do with dinner right now." he stated and got up.  
By the time they left his office Hugh had long gone home and the Constable on night shift had arrived.  
"Doctor MacMillan telephoned, Inspector," he informed the detectives. "She said to meet her morgue first thing tomorrow."  
"Thank you, Richards." Jack acknowledged, just glad Mac hadn’t insisted on coming in straight away and he could put off seeing that body again for the night.

Phryne thought she had never been more grateful Jane was back since the day her daughter had arrived than this evening. She and Jack had very early on agreed not to discuss cases in front of Jane. Not because she would be shocked or abhorred, they both knew her better than that, but because they had both agreed that more murders was the last thing Jane needed in her life, even with a house full of detectives. So dinner was a welcome distraction from the ugliness of the day with Jane explaining to them her plans for the coming weeks.  
"I’m really glad I came back now." she said gleefully.  
"Really?" Phryne could absolutely imagine more pleasant places in the world than Melbourne in July. She already had the sneaking suspicion Jack had insisted on bringing all the witnesses in today rather than going to meet them, because it had started raining around lunchtime and hadn’t stop yet.  
"Yes." her ward confirmed. "There is lots going on in Melbourne right now."  
She turned to Jack. "Have you heard of the Melbourne Numismatic Society’s trade fair next weekend?"  
He nodded with a smile. Her enthusiasm was contagious.  
"And are you going?"  
"I need to consult my shift schedule first." he admitted.  
He had meant to do that today, before that murder had come in and had of course forgotten about it afterwards. "But I might get a day in on weekend, seeing I sacrificed my day off today. Would you like to go?"  
Jane tilted her head in thought. "Is it going to be a lot of old men staring at coins?" she asked warily.  
Jack had to suppress a grin. "More likely it’s going to be old men haggling over coins." he replied. Her eyes lit up and took on a dangerous glint.  
"Oh, haggling can be fun."

After dinner they re-adjourned to the parlour as they usually did. Jane joined them, only to cuddle up in the window seat with her latest book. She was nearly done with Ovid and intended to return it tomorrow. Jack was secretly grateful to have another excuse not to deal with the case. Tonight he really just wanted to leave work in the office. There was a stack of letters sitting on the table waiting for him, so he turned his attention to those while he accepted a glass of whiskey from Mr Butler.  
"Strange." he muttered.  
"What is it?"  
He lifted his head, and looked at Phryne in confusion before it occurred to him that he had spoken aloud.  
"There is still no telephone bill in my mail. Since we have to pay by the 23rd, we should have gotten it by now."  
Phryne bit her lip and suppressed a groan.  
Money had never really been an issue between them. Until Jack had moved in and had insisted on contributing to the budget. She hadn’t wanted to hear about it initially, telling to him that she owned the house anyway and she could just about afford to feed him. He had insisted.  
"I can’t just live here, taking advantage of your money." he explained.  
"This isn’t about public opinion, again, Jack, is it? Because people will say you’re a gold-digger whether you pay rent or not."  
"And I can live with that," he assured her, "as long as both of us know they’re wrong."  
"Of course we know that, Jack." she had rolled her eyes at him.  
He had taken a deep breath and tried to make her understand “Of course we do, but if this is going to work it’ll take more than that. Because knowing it and believing it are two different things.” he said.  
“You don’t believe I think I bought you, do you?” she had been shocked.  
“No, of course not. Not now.” he replied quickly, “But there will come days when I’ll have doubts, I know that. We’ll get into fights and say things we don’t mean and then there’ll be doubt if that is really what the other thinks, or we’ll overhear someone saying something behind our backs and it’ll get under out skin. That’s the kind of thing I’d like to avoid. I have no problem with you being the provider in this relationship, Phryne. And I’m not afraid of you growing tired of me. Not anymore. But I need to maintain some independence from you. I don’t want to end up in a place were everything I have is by your grace.”  
Even as her fiancé he didn’t want to feel like a kept man. He wanted to keep a degree of control over his life. That she could understand and she respected it, so they had worked something out.  
In the end they had agreed that Jack would pay the electric company and the telephone bill, while she kept defraying the rest of the costs. He had also insisted on staying in charge of his work clothes. Seasonal exceptions like a tie or cufflinks for birthday or Christmas gifts were declared negotiable, as was her insistence on a new tux and dinner jacket for the occasional social outings he couldn’t dodge. It had seemed an acceptable compromise. Sometimes she wondered if all relationships contained such detailed negotiations of mine, thine and ours, or if that was due to their ‘modern’ approach. It seemed to work though, at least for them. But old habits sometimes died hard and it made her feel surprisingly awkward when it happened that she, without thinking about it, took over something that they had declared his terrain.  
"Maybe I picked it up by accident." she murmured, admittedly more for her own benefit, and went to get her purse where she had deposited her own mail after she hadn’t gone through it earlier today.  
"Here. Sorry, Dot must have mistakenly put it in my stack. They still send it to my name, I’m afraid." she said lightly and handed him the bill. If Jack noticed the somewhat off cadence in her voice he didn’t comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Melbourne Numismatic Society exists. Unfortunately I couldn’t find out since when. Their website is singularly unhelpful in that regard. However from what I could find most Australian Numismatic Associations were only founded as early as the 1980s and I couldn’t find which ones were around in the 20s, if any.


	4. Water from Muddy Streams

The next morning saw the rare occasion when all of Wardlow’s inhabitants sat down at the breakfast table together. Despite severe misgivings about the early hour Phryne had dragged herself from bed when Jack had gotten up. Mac had left notice last night at the station that she had completed the autopsy and wanted to see them about it first thing, so getting up it was.  
Jane on the other hand stubbornly resisted any urge to behave like a normal adolescent and was usually up with the birds, even in her holidays. It was almost disconcerting to Phryne. But this way they were all sitting at the kitchen table, Jack and Jane chatting about the newspaper headlines with Mr Butler and Phryne inhaling her second cup of strong tea, when Dot and Hugh came in through the back door. They were greeted with a choir of good mornings, some more eager than others. Hugh had taken to accompany Dot to work pretty much since she had stared showing, insisting that making sure she and the bub were alright was his job, more than anything else. After a while Dot had given up on trying to convince him that she could still handle herself, thank you very much, and by now she was secretly rather glad for his support. They had even gotten over the initial awkwardness of encountering the Inspector at Miss Fisher’s kitchen table having breakfast, at least to a degree. It had taken Hugh a while to stop blushing at the sight of his superior in shirtsleeves and Jack on the other hand had vowed to himself to never come down in anything less than at least trousers and a shirt. He had the distinct feeling his Constable would die of acute embarrassment should he ever encounter him in a bathrobe, even within the confines of what was now his own home. But after a few months most of the awkwardness seemed to have subsided, and since Jane had come back and joined them, things had gotten even better.  
Dot greeted everyone back and started peeling herself out of her raincoat. "Awful weather today." she commented. "You’ll want to wear some sensible shoes, Miss. And a nice warm coat."  
Miss Fisher smiled tiredly over the rim of her teacup. "I have full faith in you, to put out something suitable, Dot." she declared. At this stage she was slowly waking up, but not quite ready to face the day just yet. Mentionings of rain and cold didn’t help to convince her that creeping back to bed wasn’t the much better option.  
Jane peeked out the kitchen door and wrinkled her nose.  
"Jack?" she asked, without turning back to the table, "Have you catalogued your books?"  
"I have." he replied a little surprised, "I just updated it when I was packing up, too."  
"Oh." Jane was still staring out at the rain, by all appearance only making small talk, but Jack thought he had heard a hint of disappointment.  
"Why on earth would you make a catalogue of your books?" Phryne asked incredulous.  
"To record what I have, so I know if something is missing. I also make a note when I lend them out." he replied.  
Phryne shook her head in fond exasperation. Jack and Jane exchanged a look.  
"I’m sure I have an almost new package of index cards in the pantry" Mr Butler offered with a smile, "I’m not entirely sure they will be enough, though."  
"Second drawer on the left in my desk." Jack volunteered.  
Jane grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I still have some myself." she assured them.  
Phryne could only shake her head about the three. She yawned and peeked out the door as well. It really was nasty weather. "Mac better have something interesting." she muttered.

Forty-five minutes later the two detectives entered the morgue, both slightly wet despite their best efforts. Mac greeted them impatiently as if she had been waiting for hours.  
"Not much new on the cause or time of death." she reported, making Phryne groan, "No other injuries, apart from slight sores where he was tied up and gagged."  
"Anything else you can tell us, Doctor?" Jack asked.  
“He was properly pissed when he was killed.” Mac offered her professional medical assessment, “His blood alcohol suggests a long night out, as does the stomach content, which consists of a couple of pints and a good unhealthy mix of hard liquor and not much else.”  
“So either he had the worst end to a night out in history,“ Phryne pondered, “or someone got him sloshed, so he wouldn’t put up a fight when he was tied up and gagged.”  
“He was also given a blood thinner. There was an alarmingly high dose of acetylsalicylic acid in his blood.” Mac stated.  
"It’s the main component of aspirin," she added at her friends bewildered faces, “but it’s in pretty much every headache powder available. No prescription necessary. Normally it’s perfectly harmless, unless you suffer from a clotting deficiency or plan on having surgery. Normally I wouldn’t be surprised to find it in someone’s blood, but in this case the dosage is interesting: It would amount to ten powder packs at least. He would have taken it a couple of hours before he was… tied up.”  
"So there is no way he just happen to have taken one before he went out." Phryne inquired.  
"One powder yes, but it seems unlikely he took that much himself. Not even if he had the grandmother of all headaches." Mac confirmed.  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look. Jack shrugged. "I can’t say it’s much of a surprised that this was well planed." he stated.  
"Well, it could have been a scuffle and the murderer could have put him up like we found him to make if look more sophisticated then that." Phryne suggested.  
"No, he was definitely tied up before he died." Mac disagreed.  
"Would the blood thinner have contributed to him bleeding out quicker?" Jack inquired.  
Mac tilted her head in thought. "Marginally. Not enough to influence the time of death, if that’s what you want to know. I think the main effect was that it delayed clotting. Made sure he lost enough blood to die from that wound. It would have also affected his reaction to the alcohol. He was probably feeling more drunk than he would have expected from the amount he had drunk." she explained.  
Jack nodded. "So someone administered an overdose aspirin, got him drunk, tied him up and let him bleed out." he summed up, "All in the middle of the night."  
"Pretty much." the coroner confirmed.

Back in the station Hugh was waiting with the remaining reports from yesterdays interviews for Jack to go through. Both their witnesses had been asked to describe the woman Boyd had been seen the night of his death, as well as the clothes she had been wearing. A scan through the album with police photographs had unfortunately not yielded a result from either of them. Phryne red their descriptions critically.  
"Not exactly a great amount of detail." she noted, "Dark hair, dark eyes, longish face. Pretty in the right light. Green dress. That could be anyone."  
"Well, it’s the best we have for now." Jack stated. He wasn’t much happier with the state of affairs than she, but there was no use complaining. "At least they match mostly.” he pointed out. In his experience with witnesses that was not necessary a given.  
"So, what’s next, Hugh?" he asked. Every now and then he felt he still needed to do some teaching with the lad.  
"We’re still trying to identify the woman, Mr Boyd had a row with the other week and Constable Holderness is out showing the shoe print to the cobblers around town."  
Jack nodded again. "Very good, Collins. What else?"  
Hugh seemed a little startled for a moment. They could see that he was feverishly trying to think of anything he might have forgotten. "Sir?" he finally uttered when he couldn’t come up with anything. Jack suppressed a smile. The boy was making progress, but he wasn’t quite there yet and heavens, was he glad for it.  
"Make sure to check Ryland’s and Morley’s alibi’s Collins." he ordered. "I don’t think either of them did it, but make sure anyway, just so no one can say we didn’t cover all our bases."  
Hugh nodded relieved. "Yes, Sir. Anything else, Sir?"  
"Before lunch, Collins?" Jack suggested, this time allowing the smile to show just so. Hugh saw it and grinned widely in return. "Yes, Sir."  
“And while you’re at it, ask around for our mystery woman, see if anyone knows her.”  
“Yes, Sir.”

“Not exactly a massive time frame, Jack.” Phryne noted once Hugh had left the office and closed the door behind him.  
Jack made a show of checking his watch. “He still has an hour before I go on my break. Plenty of time.” he said with a grin.  
“To round up ideally several people in Cremorne, who are not only willing to talk to the police but also to admit having been in an illegal pub? He’ll be lucky of he manages that by the end of his shift.” she admonished him.  
“I think you underestimate Hugh.” he disagreed, “And he’s got two Constables under him he can employ for that. But the fact is they don’t pay you more as you ascend the ranks because it’s less work. And on that note Miss Fisher...” he pointedly looked at the stack of files in his inbound trail.  
“How can there already be more paperwork to be done?” she exclaimed incredulously, “You spend hours on it yesterday.”  
“Welcome to the wonderful world of police work, Miss Fisher.” he replied dryly, “I have to sign off on the reports from the nightshift and the additions to the case file Hugh did this morning.”  
He reached out for the folder on top and frowned when a note in Hugh’s neat handwriting fluttered of it onto his desk.  
“It seems I have a note here, too, from Mrs Collins, to remind you that you have a lunch appointment with someone in the Adventuress’ Club.” he red out, cocking his head in a way that indicated he found the incident rather amusing, on the condition that it wouldn’t be repeated.  
Phryne let out a deep sigh.  
“Caroline. Darn.” she muttered.  
“She’s in charge of the Club’s records.” she explained in reply to Jack’s inquisitive look, “She wanted to go over the documentation of my flight to England to make sure she got all the details correct.”  
Jack couldn’t hide an amused smirk.  
“Seems we’re both will be doing paperwork, Miss Fisher.” he observed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acetylsalicylic acid is the main agent in and often used synonymously with Aspirin. Bayer’s patent for synthesis (was) seized after WWI so it was freely and cheaply available in allied countries (which is also one of the reasons it is still cheaper than in Germany everywhere else) and therefore highly popular before the development of Paracetamol. It actually is an anti-clotting agent, and sometimes medically used for that, e.g. to prevent heart attacks, but it can also lead to serious complications if taken within days before an operation.  
> Apart from that I’m not claiming any medical accuracy.


	5. Do not fly from me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the real nastiness begins.

"We have identified the, er, lady, Mr Boyd had a row with last week, Sir." Hugh staggered a little, but otherwise remained admirably calm when he handed the Inspector a file. "Miss Frances Cary has a record."  
Jack didn’t manage to seize the file before Phryne grabbed it from Hugh’s hand. She had returned to the station about an hour after lunch, full of energy, only to find that there were still no new information, so she had spend the last hour or so rehashing what they knew, trying to find a new angle, with rather limited success. Now that there was finally something to add to the puzzle she jumped at the new data.  
"Nothing surprising, for a lady of the night." she assessed the list of charges against the girl. "Soliciting, indecent behaviour, dunk and disorderly, resisting arrest, blah blah blah." She scanned for any more information, "No address, but all arrests were made either in Cremorne or Fitzroy. It seems her radius of movement is rather limited."  
"She probably had her regular haunts" Jack surmised. "The ladies in question can get quite territorial. It is a business after all."  
"The oldest in world." Phryne agreed thoughtfully.  
"She’ll be hard to track down this way." she added, "You don’t make it for very long in those streets, unless you can recognise police from a mile away."  
Jack gave her a sideways look. "Speaking from experience, Miss Fisher?"  
"You will have noticed I didn’t have an arrest record until I met you." she replied haughtily.  
"You still don’t have one." he informed her, "Too much paperwork, remember?"  
She looked at him quizzically. "Not even for that time you locked me up for assaulting you?"  
"If I put that on record, I’d also have to note how you got out and then I’d have to charge Mrs Collins for pulling a gun on Hugh." he pointed out, "Besides I’m fairly certain the offence is barred by now."  
Phryne couldn’t suppress a chuckle.  
"And what will you do, Jack Robinson, if it’s not and Commissioner Wolfe accuses you of favouritism towards your fiancée and her cohorts?" she grinned.  
He shrugged. "I’ll tell him my memory of that day is somewhat foggy, due to the fact that I was hit over the head and taken hostage by two crazed maniacs. Further," he continued before a shadow of that memory could even fall over Phryne’s face, "I would send my fiancée to deal with him, since it’s her arrest record we’re talking about and she is now best friends with the head prosecutor." He leaned forward with an almost smug smile on his face.  
"My, my Jack, that’s not very gallant of you." Phryne widened her eyes theatrically, "Shouldn’t you rush to your woman’s defence?"  
"Whenever I do that, I usually find you standing over the perpetrator with a blunt object in your hand." he deadpanned.  
"And yet it’s nice to know that you come running anyway." she said sweetly.  
"Always good to hear one’s efforts are appreciated."  
"When do I ever not appreciate you, Jack?" she replied mockingly indignant.  
He tilted his head. "When you’re plotting to go undercover as a prostitute without planning to tell me."  
Phryne gasped.  
"I had no such intentions, Jack!" she exclaimed a little too high pitched.  
Jack just gave her a pointed look. It constantly surprised him, how someone who was so adept at playing roles could be such a terrible liar.  
"Alright," she conceded, sounding a little contrite, "I may have entertained the possibility. But we need to talk to her. How do you suggest we find her? She won’t just come with you."  
"We’ll contact Richmond Station, they did most of her arrests, so they’ll know her and where to find her." he suggested, "I know you don’t have the highest opinion of the police force in general, but trust us to be able to bring in a suspect, please."  
She rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. You try your way; mine will still work when yours has failed."  
He rolled his eyes right back at her, not dignifying the remark with a reply.  
"I would have told you, you know." she said quietly after a while.  
He searched out her eyes and held them for a long moment. "Good."  
In the end Jack’s faith in the Richmond police was justified. Only a few hours later a Constable arrived escorting the girl in question into the interview room at City South.

Frances ‘Franny’ Cary was not conventionally pretty. Her eyes were too close together, her mouth too large, her hair was stringy and her skin had the sickly colour of one who takes too many liquid meals rather than solid ones. But there was something about her, the way she tilted her head and placed her legs just a little too far apart that was doubtlessly alluring. Jack was sure she had no shortage of punters to serve.  
"Did you know a man named Charlie Boyd?" he began his interview.  
Franny shrugged. "Seen him around." she said disinterested.  
"Was he a customer?" Phryne took over.  
The other woman exuded indifference. "Not in a while."  
"Since you had that fight last week?" Phryne pressed.  
Another shrug. "Don’t know nothing about no fight."  
"Witnesses saw you argue with Boyd, last week in a pub." Jack said, "Apparently it got quite heated."  
"What was the fight about?" Phryne asked.  
Franny’s face hardened.  
"About him being a bastard." she said, showing a bit of life for the first time.  
"Miss Cary, Charles Boyd was found dead yesterday morning. This is a murder investigation." Jack impressed on her.  
The prostitute sat up straight now glaring at him.  
"And you think I did it? Because I had a few words with him, ages ago." she huffed indignantly.  
"Well, who else would have a motive to kill Mr Boyd?" Jack offered her an escape.  
She gave him an unimpressed look. "Every hooker between here and Hawthorn. And half the punter’s, too. He was a bastard."  
"So you said." Phryne noted.  
Franny shot her a look, too. "Have you talked to the weasely fellow he was hanging around with? Harry? He ought to give you a list."  
"And yet you seemed to have been willing to deal with him until that fight." Phryne observed.  
"I need to eat." was the short reply.  
Phryne could not contest that. Franny turned back to Jack.  
"What’s the toff doing here anyway?" she asked, trying to sound disinterested, like she was only making conversation.  
"Miss Fisher is a private investigator; she’s helping us with this case."  
The girl sized Phryne up for a moment.  
"Why?"  
Phryne smiled "I’m a firm believer in finding the truth." she replied as charmingly as she could.  
"But you’re not a rozzer?" Franny clearly was still suspicious.  
"No." Miss Fisher stated with emphasis.  
"So who’s paying you?"  
"Nobody at the moment."  
"As pleasant as this is, we’re here to find a murderer, Miss Cary." Jack interrupted the two women.  
Franny immediately returned to her indifferent persona and glared at him.  
"Well, I didn’t kill him and I don’t know who did. And if I knew I wouldn’t tell you, I’d buy them a drink." she stated defiantly.  
The Inspector resisted the urge to roll his eyes, barely.  
"Where were you yesterday night between two and six in the morning?"  
"I was working." Jack sighed.  
"I don’t suppose anyone would confirm that." he assumed.  
The prostitute gave him a long look.  
"Whatdaja think, copper?" she replied.  
"None of this is very helpful, Miss Cary." he pointed out.  
"Sorry." she said, sounding utterly unapologetic.  
"Well then," Jack planted his palms on the desk and pushed himself to his feet, "we’ll have to keep you here on suspicion until we have that sorted out." he declared and headed towards the door.  
Phryne was rather unhappy with this outcome, but she couldn’t argue with him in front of the witness so she hurried to follow him outside.

Just when Phryne reached the door, Franny reached out to her.  
"Please Miss, can I talk to you? Alone." she asked. The two detectives exchanged an eloquent series of looks; then Jack nodded almost imperceptibly and left the interview room. Phryne turned around to their suspect. The words spilling from the prostitute took her by surprise.  
"Please, Miss, help me." Franny was suddenly shaking, all defiance fallen from her, "They’ll say I did him in. But I didn’t, you have to believe me. Please, Miss."  
Phryne was taken aback.  
"I’m not sure what I...." she started, but Franny interrupted her.  
"You’re that Lady Detective, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you. You helped with the girl in that gentlemen’s club. I know I’m not fancy like that, but, please, Miss, please. That copper, he listens to you and I didn’t do it and they’re gonna lock me up anyway."  
There were tears shinning in her eyes by now.  
Miss Fisher had dragged a chair next to Franny and took a seat.  
"No one is going to lock you up." she said kindly. "Not if you didn’t do it. Do you have an alibi? A customer maybe?"  
The prostitute shook her head.  
"I was out all night last night, but I couldn’t get anyone after nine. It was too cold, punters don’t like that." she sniffed.  
"What about other girls?" Miss Fisher inquired. "Could they confirm that you were out and about?"  
Franny thought for a moment.  
"I was chatting with my friend Liza for a bit, Liza Dunn, but she got a customer, and I never saw her after. And Marj Gold was at the corner of Churchstreet half the night, but I don’t know if she saw me." she said finally, "That’s not gonna help much, is it?"  
Phryne could only agree, but put on a bright smile. The girl had probably enough worries.  
"There was a woman with Boyd that night, did you see her?"  
Franny scoffed. "There was always some woman with Boyd."  
"She had dark hair, brown eyes and a green dress."  
Franny just shrugged. "Could be anyone."  
Phryne observed the girl in front of her closely. She suddenly seemed much younger than she had, defying the police. She had seem brazen, harsh and world weary then. Now she was young and clearly terrified. This wasn’t a girl like Lola Williams, who had chosen this life rather than be a servant. This girl had, for whatever reasons, not seen another way.  
"If you want me to help you, you’ll have to tell me the truth." Phryne said as kindly as she could. "About Charlie Boyd."  
Franny winced. "I told you what I know." she said stubbornly.  
"No you haven’t." Phryne disagreed gently, "You haven’t told me what your argument with him was about."  
Franny threw her a sideways look that shook Phryne at the core. "You’ll think I did him in." she insisted, "I wanted to that night."  
"What did he do?" Phryne gently probed.  
The girl shook her head. "It’s silly, really. Girl like me. You’d think I wouldn’t mind so much."  
Her eyes were glittering but she didn’t look at Phryne. Instead her gaze was fixed on the corner of the table.  
"I don’t think it’s silly at all." Miss Fisher assured her. Franny didn’t even seem to hear her. Phryne could see that she had now resolved to tell her story and it would have to come out. So she braced herself and prepared to listen and be there.  
"It was last Tuesday when it happened." Franny started. "Charlie was a regular, he came every other night. I never minded him, it’s good business. I need the money. He was a bit rough at times, but some blokes like that, no harm done. But last Tuesday he came and he said he couldn’t pay me. Said he’d blown it all on a horse. So I told I don’t do nothing without being paid cash and up front." She swallowed hard "He wouldn’t let go, said he’d pay me tomorrow. Got real angry, too, but I was having none of it and I told him just where he could stick it." She hesitated. Only a split second, but notably.  
"Then he grabbed me." her voice caught a little, but she barged on, "We was in the alley, behind the pub. I told him to let go but he wouldn’t, so I hit him in the face. He was cursing like a sailor, but never let go of me. He just grabbed both me arms and pulled them behind me back. Then he pushed me face against the wall and he..." Her voice faltered again and Phyne took her hand.  
"You must be very brave, if you came back a few days later and confronted him." she said quietly. Franny shook her head emphatically. She hadn’t spilled a tear yet, but she was holding on by the skin of her teeth.  
"I could only do it in the pub, with lots people around and..." she broke off one more time and took a deep breath, "I wanted him dead. So much. I couldn’t go back to working for almost a week. First time I tried, I nearly started kicking and screaming at the bloke. I was so furious after that, so I ran straight to the pub and..."  
Phryne squeezed her hand sympathetically. There wasn’t anything she could say, she knew. ‘I understand’ didn’t even begin to cover it.  
"He left me in the alley." Franny continued her story, "Liza found me there. She took me to hospital in the morning."  
Phryne’s heart broke a little for the girl and a familiar anger cursed through her at the thought of the things men like Boyd could get away with doing to women. Right now she really wanted to find his murderer, only so she could shake their hand and tell them ‘well done’. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She had known this case wasn’t going to be pretty. Killing a man by cutting off his private parts had very clearly been a message from the very start. She couldn’t let this get to her.  
"Thank you for telling me, Franny." she said warmly squeezing the girl’s hand again, "You are very, very brave."

Jack waited for her in his office. He could tell from her face that whatever the witness had confided in her, it had rattled her deeply. Without a word she went for his whiskey supply and drowned down two glasses before she dropped heavily on the visitor chair.  
"We need to find one Miss Liza Dunn and a Marjory Gold." she said darkly.  
"Miss Cary’s alibi?" he asked.  
Phryne nodded. "Potentially." she confirmed, "Can we prove she didn’t do it?"  
Jack raised an eyebrow, but thought it wiser not to comment. "Only if she has an alibi. I would be surprised if it was her shoeprint, but that is only circumstantial. It could have been left there at any point during the night." he laid out the facts.  
He glanced back at his partner. "Are you alright?" he asked tentatively.  
"No." she sighed deeply.  
"What did she tell you?"  
To his surprise Phryne gave him a pained look. "If I tell you, you’ll have to arrest her in earnest and I rather you didn’t."  
Under normal circumstances Jack would have argued or at least felt hurt, about her withholding information, not trusting him, putting herself above the law. But he could see that this wasn’t one of those cases where she had decided to go over his head. Her eyes willed him to understand that she had considered the consequences, his obligations to the law and his job, and it was likely she was right. She told him she couldn’t tell him and why, rather than lie to him, which was more than she had done on several previous occasions. They had come a long way he realised and he owed it to her to meet her halfway.  
"I assume the Misses Dunn and Gold are also working the streets of Cremorne?" he guessed.  
Phryne smiled, relieved he didn’t push her.  
"Yes, they do." she straightened up, trying to regain some of her usual drive, "If we hurry, we can find them before the punters snatch them away."


	6. Any Witness is Far Away

They headed to Richmond Police Station first. Phryne knew this was were Jack had been stationed for many years after the war and she had been curious about that station, even if he told her he hadn’t been in there since he had been made Inspector, over three years ago. Phryne herself had vague memories about Richmond Station, which had been the one to investigate her sister’s disappearance. For that reason she was slightly torn between excitement and trepidation upon entering. To her own surprise she was slightly disappointed when the reception area of the station looked rather similar to the one in City South, but she noticed a few subtle differences. She also saw that Jack looked around when they entered, as if he was trying to determine if everything was still as he remembered it. First they inquired about any information on the two ladies of the night from the officer on the front desk. He helpfully provided them with their files, as well as a few corners where they were likely to be this time of the day, after Jack had identified himself. While Phryne studied the documents he placed phone call.  
"It’s not far from here." she said, when he hung up, "Maybe we shouldn’t take the Hispano, but it’s only about a ten minute walk from what I can see."  
"If you wait another ten minutes, Yates and Johnson will be here. To take you to Cremorne." he added before she could protest.  
"You were right, I won’t do any good coming along, they’ll only scatter like birds before a cat. You can find them. But I’m not letting you go there on your own. Please don’t argue." he pleaded, "I know you can look after yourself, but this is a nasty corner of town and you don’t know what might happen." He sighed heavily, "I’d just feel better knowing you had back up, that’s all."  
Phryne was slightly torn between her natural impulse to argue and assert she was very well capable of going without an escort and the rather unfamiliar feeling of warmth that flooded her at the sight of his concern mixed with his honest admission that it was more for his own peace of mind than her need for protection. And he had accepted her decision not to tell him what Franny had confided in her with more grace than she had expected. Maybe it was her time to compromise.  
So she settled for her default whenever she wasn‘t entirely sure how to deal with the feelings he evoked in her: "You’re trusting Bert and Cec now?" she teased.  
He rolled his eyes, but she could sense his relieve that she didn’t fight him.  
"It sounds like a really bad idea if you put it like that." he muttered, "I trust they know I’ll have their hides if they muck it up. And as much as it pains me, I trust that they’d take a beating for you if they have to. But mostly I trust you to keep them safe and in line."  
He gave her a kiss, despite the fact that they were in the relative public of a police station reception area with a Constable only a few feet away. A clear sign just how uneasy the situation made him but he had agreed to let her go none the less. Happily she let her eyes fall shut and kissed him back.

The first one they spotted was Liza Dunn. Phryne instantly recognised her from her mug shot. She had noted that the woman was of a rather petite statue, coming up to 5.5.  
The truth was that Liza was a tiny, puckish creature, despite the fact that she was easily the wrong side of forty, with pitch-black hair that hung heavily in her surprisingly sparsely made up face. Her green eyes looked out defiantly from underneath her long fringe. She was leaning against a wall, just at the corner the Richmond Constable had suggested to them and made no move to flee when Phryne came over with Bert staying just behind her.  
"Couples cost extra." she announced as they approached her, "And I don’t do tie ups."  
Phryne smiled a little amused smile. She instantly liked the woman.  
"We’re not here for that." Bert saw fit to clear that detail. If the colour was a little higher in his cheeks than normal neither of the women mentioned it.  
"We’re here for your friend Franny." Phryne added.  
Liza would have been a brilliant poker player.  
"Whadaja want from Franny?" she asked impassively.  
"You know Charlie Boyd?" Phryne inquired.  
The other woman spat at the ground.  
"So what if I do. I heard ‘e’s not gonna be a bother no more." she said, not without a degree of satisfaction.  
"Franny says she was with you last night." Phryne dug further.  
"If you think Franny did that bastard in you’re crazy, Lady." Liza stated definitively.  
"We don’t think she did it and neither do the police. But they need to verify her alibi so no one can say they didn’t do their job properly." Phryne explained.  
Liza rolled her eyes. "What a tragedy that would be." she muttered sarcastically.  
Phryne could hear Bert snicker behind her and she had to suppress a grin herself. If this wasn’t Jack they were talking about she would have wholeheartedly agreed.  
"If she has an alibi no one can turn the facts around and blame her either. And that alibi is you and one Marjory Gold." she pointed out.  
The prostitute sighed and pushed off the wall. "Fine. Come along." she ordered over her shoulder, already heading down the street. She moved quickly in her heels, despite the craggy street and led them a few blocks further. Bert threw a quick glance back to where Cec had vigilantly kept his distance and nodded to his partner who followed them carefully. It was still rather early and there weren’t many customers out in the streets, but the legal pubs had closed two hours ago, so anyone who was still out these parts was potentially suspect of something illegal.  
It didn’t take long though before Phryne realised where exactly Liza was leading them, or rather to whom. Marjory Gold stood out against the dark wall she had taken as her perch, like a ring against a jeweller’s satin pillow. She clearly had taken her surname as inspiration for her outfit, a scanty dress made of a, as Phryne noted, cheap gold fabric toped with a glittering fascinator on her rather dull brown hair.  
"Marj!" Liza called her as soon as she was in sight. Marjory eyed the strange parade headed her way with some suspicion.  
"What?" she asked.  
"These people want to know if you were with Franny the night Charlie Boyd was killed." Liza turned to Phryne who had just caught up. "I was with Franny until I got a John to take care of. About tenish, I reckon." she declared.  
"Franny said you’d been at this corner most of the night." Phryne told Marj.  
"Tell ‘em, Goldylocks. I’ll not have Franny hang because of that bastard." Liza ordered the other girl.  
Similar to what Phryne and Bert had witnessed earlier the second prostitute spat to the ground with disgust.  
"I was." she confirmed, "Franny settled over there." she pointed to a doorway a few meters away, "Lousy night. Neither of us could get a job to safe our lives." she sniffed. "I packed up when Josh’s closed. Musta been what? Three? Franny was still there. Guess she was hoping to get one of the punters." the girl huffed. "As if Josh let them out with a penny left in their pockets."  
Liza looked expectantly at Miss Fisher. "You need us to write it down?" she demanded more than asked.

Jack was still up when Phryne came home. Despite everything he had been worried, so he waited for her return in the parlour, bend over one of Jane’s French books. They had made a deal to help each other with their language skills, French for German, since Jane had discovered contemporary German writers and was despairing over the translations available. Unfortunately Jack’s French was much rustier than Jane’s budding German, so he had to put in a lot more work and in addition he had less time to study. But to his credit he used what time he had and didn’t give up.  
He put down the dictionary he had been perusing when she walked in and jumped to his feet to pour her a drink.  
"Find them?" he asked when she had coiled up in her favourite chair and taken a generous gulp. "You’re earlier than I thought."  
She nodded.  
"They were surprisingly helpful." she reported, "They even promised to go to the station tomorrow to make an official statement. I talked to the Constable on our way back. They’ll take it and send it to City South."  
Then she told him what she had heard from the two girls about Boyd and that they had confirmed Franny’s alibi. Jack had to chuckle when she described what Liza had said to her.  
"Miss Dunn sounds like someone you’d like." he remarked.  
"I think I do." she agreed thoughtfully, "I wish I could do something for those girls. No one should have to live like that."  
“I’m surprised they’re so protective of each other.” he admitted, “In my experience these ladies are extremely competitive.”  
“I have no doubt they’ll squabble over clients,” Phryne agreed, “but they don’t have anyone else looking out for them. It makes sense they band together against predators.”

That night Phryne was unusually affectionate. It wasn’t that their love making wasn’t ever tender, but Phryne generally wasn’t a cuddly person and she enjoyed the unbridled and more passionate side of intimacy. After this day however, she seemed to long for nothing more than Jack’s gentle adoration. She kept her eyes wide open the entire time, fixed on his face, as if she had to constantly reassure herself that it was him and needed to see his love for her in his eyes.  
Afterwards she snuggled into his chest and pulled his arms around her until she was all but completely engulfed by him. Jack let her and only tightened his hold a little once she had settled.  
"Are you alright?" he asked after a moment.  
"I will be." she promised into his chest, "Today reminded me how lucky I am. To have you. It can be easy to block out that there’s a lot of truly horrid men out there."  
His arms instinctively tightened a little more and he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. She still hadn’t told him what Franny Cary had said to her about Boyd, but he had fairly good idea by now and he knew it affected her for more reasons than just for the fact that it was a terrible story to begin with.  
"I don’t know how you did it.” he admitted quietly.  
She lifted her head to look at him "What in particular?"  
"Be so strong, so fearless. How you could go out into the world and be as... liberal minded, as you are, after DuBois." he replied hesitantly, not wanting to drag up more unpleasant memories, but feeling he had to say it anyways. "It’s incredible."  
She wrapped her arms closer around him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. She understood that his words were meant to express his admiration for her and to reassure her, he knew what was bothering her and why. But she tried to banish Rene from her mind now and talking about him wouldn’t help, even if Jack was the only person she could imagine telling about him.  
"Franny was braver than me. She faced him, not years, but only days later."

As promised the statements of Liza Dunn and Marj Gold arrived at City South just after noon the next day, together with Franny’s amended statement about her alibi. Jack went over the details with Phryne again and officially declared Franny no longer a suspect in the Boyd case.  
And that was it. As much as Phryne hated it, there was nothing more to go on, no matter how she turned it. They spend another couple of days interviewing witnesses, confirming alibi’s, searching for motives but came up empty: Mr Ryland had remained in the pub until the small hours, confirmed by several witnesses, and Morley’s landlady confirmed he had come home at half two and nearly woken half the house with his singing, before he had collapsed in his bed and not stirred until morning. Neither Phryne nor Jack could turn up a motive for him, Ryland or any other acquaintance of Boyd’s that would justify a murder. The mystery woman Boyd had been seen with was listed as a wanted person, and Jack had a Constable knocking on doors in the neighbourhood for three days, but no one seemed to know who she was. The woman seemed to have come and gone like an apparition that only emerged for one night and was then never seen again.  
Hugh had one of the new Constables confer with almost every cobbler in town to find out more about the shoe, but all they came back with was what Dot had already assessed. None of the shoe makers recognised their own handiwork.  
They, Phryne in this case, had a chat with a nurse from the women’s hospital who had treated Franny Cary who confirmed her and Liza’s stories. She remembered the two prostitutes, especially Liza had caused a great commotion on a day that a delegation from the board had been shown around the hospital and she had to usher them into a room as quickly as possible. She recounted the situation without going into great detail, but it was enough to make Phryne blister with outrage against men like Boyd. It didn’t help the case either, though. Officially the investigation was still open, but it was just like Dot had said once: time had run out and there were no more leads to follow.

Then a friend of the mayor was found dead in a rather awkward position, and the Commissioner pressured Jack into taking on that case and deferring the case of the poor dead factory worker until the matters of politics and public interest were solved. Jack bore it with stoic equanimity and an extra eye roll, but Phryne wasn’t happy.  
“It just feels wrong to turn to a new murder case when there is a case that’s not solved yet.” she pouted over their after dinner drinks, snuggled into his chest on the chaise.  
“It happens.” Jack replied dryly, “More often that you would think. Murderers don’t wait for the police to make time before they strike, and unfortunately we can’t always solve every crime that’s committed. In fact, most of the time we don’t. Most of the time we end up in dead ends and a new case calls.”  
"I don’t." she disagreed.  
He couldn’t help a smirk at her petulant tone. "First time for everything. Not all cases can be solved." he told her, "I don’t like it any more than you, but it’s something you have to accept in this job."  
He knew it would gal her as it had him the first couple of years in his job and she was even more stubborn than he was. And she had had an unusually long string of successes which would only make it harder to accept.  
She fixated him over the edge of her glass. "You’re job, not mine. I can do things you can’t." she pointed out sharply, "And I’m not giving up yet."  
To her surprise he smiled. "I didn’t expect you would."  
Somewhat pacified she relaxed back into him. "I don’t think I ever fully appreciated how frustrating your work can be." she admitted.  
Jack made an approving sound and kissed her temple. "Some days are better than others." he assured her.  
"Yes?"  
"Hmm. Some days Mrs Collins brings a lunch basket."  
Phryne let out a laugh. "I do that, too." she admonished him with a playful slap on the arm.  
He tilted his head, pretending to think hard. "Do you? I can’t seem to remember any food whenever you’re in the room."  
Phryne had to suppress another laugh. "Did you just say that you love me more than food, Jack Robinson?" she asked amused.  
He furrowed his brows in mock surprise "I’m not sure I would go quite that far, Phryne." he teased, "More that you are very distracting."  
Now there really wasn’t anything else to do than prove his point and kiss him completely senseless, so she did.  
"I won’t give up." she repeated, once she was breathing again, meaning every word. Jack gave her another long, tender kiss.  
"I know." he said.

Unfortunately the next few days Phryne was thoroughly busy with the new case. The victim was, as it turned out not a friend of the Mayor’s, but also of Aunt Prudence’, which made him probably even more worthy of a thorough investigation, at least in her aunts eyes. So Phryne, too, had to postpone any further investigation on the Boyd murder to pacify the old dear. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, a tiny part of her was relieved they hadn’t found the mystery woman. Her sympathy for Boyd was still none-existent after what she had heard from the prostitutes. It was mostly her sense of justice and probably even more than that her pride that wouldn’t let her give up. She could not and would not accept failure.  
Luckily the ‘dead toff’, as she heard one of the newer Constables refer to the case, turned out not much of a mystery after all, despite an abundance of red herrings and political entanglements. Three days after the discovery of the body Jack arrested the dead man’s brother and Phryne could finally start to plot her next steps in the old investigation.  
Any plans she may have made however, came to a shrieking hold with a phone call from Hugh Collins the next morning.


	7. Weary Wandering Waters

"The same as Charlie Boyd, Sir." Hugh reported as the two detectives arrived at the crime scene. "Doctor MacMillan is on her way." he added.  
Jack nodded curtly and tried to prepare himself for the sight of the body. "Do we know who the victim is, Collins?" he asked.  
"Yes, Sir." Hugh confirmed eagerly. "He had a wallet with him. Roger Hollinghurst. Address in South Yarra."  
"That’s not far from here." Phryne noted with a look at the address.  
"No, Miss." Hugh confirmed, "He was probably on his way home."  
The crime scene did look eerily familiar. A man, kneeling in a puddle of blood, facing the river, trousers around his ankles, tied to a lamppost by his braces, with a handkerchief in his mouth. The main difference was that it had been raining since the early hours of the morning which had thinned out the bloodstain considerably and drained it towards the river. Jack tried not to look at the source of the blood. Instead he focused on the trail leading down to the river. Again. Only this time it was impossible to say if anything had dripped on the way down there. Any possible footprints would have been washed away, too. He looked out over the water.  
"You can see the other crime scene from here." Phryne observed, stepping next to him.  
It was true; across the river the place where Charlie Boyd had been found was clearly visible.  
"Maybe she likes this part of the river." he speculated.  
"Or she lives around here." his partner suggested.  
Mac appeared a few minutes later at the scene, eyebrows raised at the sight of the victim.  
“I was really hoping you two would set an end to this before this would happen.” she declared, “Being engaged is clearly distracting you. You’re loosing your touch.” she accused Phryne.  
“You were the one who suggested it in the first place, so don’t you complain.” her friend fired back.  
“I think, if you cast your mind back, you’ll find it was Mr Butler who suggested it and I merely explained his meaning to you.” Mac corrected while she kneeled down next to the corpse.  
“With all due respect Mac, could we please get this over with?” Jack interrupted the two women, “I would really like to be done with this.”  
Mac raised her head to look at him. The fact that he called her by her nickname rather than her title at a crime scene told her clearly just how uncomfortable he was. Men, always pretending to be strong and tough and then getting squeamish at the sight of a little missing meat, she thought.  
“Are you suggesting that I scamp my examination to protect your male sensibilities, Inspector?” she mocked.  
“I promise you can take all the time you need once you have him on your autopsy table.” Jack replied tersely.  
“That’s what you say.” she muttered under her breath. She wasn’t about to tell him she had spend the two days with the last victim shooing curious med students, assistants and interns seeking a cheep thrill, out of the morgue. It had gotten to a point where the head of the hospital had demanded she remove that cadaver as soon as possible.  
“It’s certainly the same m. o. as the last.” she declared concentrating on her examination and trying to ignore the squinting Inspector next to her. “Probably the same kind of knife, too, I’d say. Time of death maybe a bit earlier, between three and five in the morning would be my guess, putting the time of his castration at around midnight to one. I can’t be sure without a blood test but I would hazard this one, too had blood thinner in his system.”  
Jack let out a deep breath. “Thank you Doctor. If that’s all we’ll be heading to Mr Hollinghurst’s address now.” he said, maybe a little more strained than was strictly necessary, Mac thought. She liked Jack; he was a good man, smart, respectful and fun, too, most of the time. But sometimes he was just such a _man_.

Roger Hollinghurst lived in a fashionable apartment in South Yarra. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was definitely nicer than any flat Jack had ever seen before. A mousy girl in a maid‘s uniform opened the door.  
"Detective Inspector Robinson, this is Miss Fisher. Is this the address of Mr Roger Hollinghurst?" the Inspector inquired.  
The girl looked pensively from one to the other. "Yes," she confirmed a little suspiciously, "but Mr. Hollinghurst isn’t home at the moment."  
Jack nodded. Phryne noticed the moment he put on his calming professional face when he informed the maid: "I’m afraid Mr Hollinghurst was found dead this morning."  
The girl’s hand flew to her mouth. "Dead? Oh, my..." she stumbled back a few steps, which Phryne instantly used to enter the apartment. The maid didn’t seem to notice. She turned around and called out for someone. A man appeared in the hallway purposefully striding toward the intruders with a posture that immediately identified him as a first class servant.  
"Oh, Mr Franklin" the maid cried out, "It’s Mr Hollinghurst, he’s dead."  
Mr Franklin, a man in his thirties with slick black hair and the complexion of freshly pressed linen didn’t even blink.  
"What is all this uproar?" he asked sharply.  
Jack repeated his introduction and informed him of Hollinghurst’s death. Mr Franklin paled a little more, but kept his composure.  
"Please come inside." he offered, sounding a little hoarse but otherwise perfectly calm and ushered the detectives along a long hallway into the parlour.  
Jack had to suppress a gasp on entering. His entire old apartment would have neatly fitted into that parlour, with room to spare. There were three settees arranged around a low table, several cabinets displaying what looked like antique books, and a massive window front granted a magnificent view over the Yarra. Phryne took it all in with a nonchalant glance and started strolling around, peaking into the glass cabinets. Jack tried putting his eyes back in his head and focused on the servants. Franklin had shooed the maid into the kitchen in the meantime.  
"I apologise for Molly, she’s not been with us long." he said joining the detectives in the big room. He seemed to have regained his composure entirely and let not a twitch betray any emotion he might have felt.  
"And exactly who are you?" Jack asked.  
"Tom Franklin. I am, I was, Mr Hollinghurst’s valet." Franklin introduced himself.  
Jack nodded and made notes. "And are you and Miss...?"  
"Hastings, Molly Hastings, she’s the maid." Franklin provided.  
"Are you the only servants?"  
"Yes. There wasn’t much need for more. Mr Hollinghurst would usually eat out and he’d hire a cook for the days when he was entertaining."  
"When was the last time either of you have seen Mr Hollinghurst?"  
"That would have been yesterday morning. He left to have lunch in the club and he was due to attend a symposium in the afternoon. We didn’t expect him back until late."  
"How long have you been working for Mr Hollinghurst?"  
The questioning was all rather routine and Phryne had no intention to listen to all of it. Jack would tell her if anything interesting came up. The display showed mostly old books, predominantly manuscripts, but also a few prints, in a variety of different languages. It didn’t seem like Roger Hollinghurst had been particularly interested in them for their content. She snuck out of the ostentatious parlour in search for the maid. The apartment was rather curiously cut, almost like a hose with a slightly crocked hallway in the centre and doors to the different rooms going off to both sides, all culminating in the monstrous living room at the end of the hall.  
Phryne found the kitchen around the corner from the main entrance. Molly sat on the kitchen table with a freshly made cup of tea in her hand.  
"I could use one of those." Phryne stated and took the other chair.  
The maid was at her feet instantly, flustered. "Of, course, Miss, I’m sorry, Miss. Does the Inspector also require a cuppa?"  
Miss Fisher did her best to calm the girls down. "I’m sure the Inspector will get everything he needs from Mr Franklin. And I will be just fine where I am." she assured her.  
It seemed to help. Molly stopped fussing and simply placed a cup in front of her and filled it with the brew standing already on the table.  
"I’m sorry, Miss. I’m not rightly sure what to do now." she admitted.  
Phryne nodded understandingly. "I’m sure it’s all a bit overwhelming. Did you work for Mr Hollinghurst long?"  
"Oh, no, Miss, I only just got started the other week." Molly told her.  
Miss Fisher raised her head. "Oh? That’s lucky. It can’t be easy finding a job like this, these days."  
"It isn’t Miss. That’s why I’m so out of sorts. I just only got this job and now I need to get back to looking. Me poor Mum is gonna worry sick."  
Phryne tutted, appropriately sympathetically. "Was it a good job, then?" she asked.  
"Oh yes, Miss." Molly nodded enthusiastically, "Light work, mostly cleaning and doing the bed and the fire’s. But not much housework else. Tom, that’s Mr Franklin deals with the wardrobe, the laundry’s send out and the Master didn’t eat in most the time."  
Phryne nodded. "Must be nice to work for a bachelor who’s so low maintenance." she agreed.  
Molly agreed again. "Yes, you’d think. I can’t think why the lady at the agency was so strange about it."  
Phryne listened up. "She was?"  
"Yes, curious, isn’t it. But appears I’m the second maid they’d send there this month. The old one had to leave because her husband made her, that’s what Tom said anyway. And then there was one that didn’t get on with Mr Hollinghurst, so she only stayed a few weeks."  
The girl shook her head in disbelieve. Before Phryne could answer there was a quiet knock at the door.  
"You done, Miss Fisher?" Jack peeked his head through the door.  
"I think so, Jack." She jumped to her feet, "Thank you for the tea, Molly. It was very nice chatting with you. I really hope you find a new position soon."  
She gave the girl a bright smile, before she took Jack’s arm and let him lead her back to the car.  
"That thing you do, keeping silent and letting people talk, it really works wonders, you know." she said as she slid into her seat beside him.  
Jack tilted his head a little. "Are you assimilating my interrogation methods, Miss Fisher?" he asked a little incredulously.  
"I always endeavour to better myself, Jack. Learning new tricks is part of the process." she explained with a twinkle in her eyes that betrayed her solemnity. He raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t hide a little proud smile.  
"I‘m honoured to be counted among your teachers, Miss Fisher. And what information did my methods unearth?"  
She rolled her eyes at him, but answered all the same. "That Mr Hollinghurst was a man of little effort for his servants, yet he seemed to have trouble keeping a maid."  
Jack nodded. "Mr Franklin said something similar, although he framed it slightly different. According to him they had had trouble getting good staff after the last long term maid, a Joyce Reynolds had to leave. Her replacement apparently wasn’t up to her employer’s standards."  
"Did he say why Joyce left?" Phryne asked.  
Jack shook his head. "Not directly. He hinted at a family matter. But he did give me the agency the maids were registered with, and the name of a colleague Mr Hollinhurst was supposed to meet with yesterday."  
Phryne gave him an appraising look. "It seems I still need more practice in applying your methods Inspector. I seem to have come up short on my end."  
"I do have a few years of practice ahead of you." he comforted her with a humorous smile.


	8. The Works of Human Kind

"3rd annual symposium of the Victorian Codicology Association." Phryne read out from the poster prominently displayed on the door. She looked around the room. It looked different from the last time she had seen it, now filled with chairs facing a small podium and people standing around in small groups, talking in subdued voices. The last time she had been in here, it had been her and Jack having their own personal rendition of the twilight waltz. She smiled at the memory. At the same moment she could feel Jack’s hand reaching for hers assuring her, that he, too, remembered that afternoon.  
"Inspector Robinson and Miss Fisher. I hope there’s not been another murder." Hilda Cobb eyed the two detectives suspiciously. Jack had not charged her for the gambling in her hotel after all last time, but he had made it abundantly clear that that could change at the slightest slip up.  
"Unfortunately, Mrs Cobb." he replied carefully, "We’re here to talk to a Mr Marsh."  
The suspicious look on her face did not subside, but she pointed them to a spectacled man in his fifties with a stout figure and a well trimmed beard.  
"Mr Marsh? Detective Inspector Robinson, this is Miss Fisher, could we talk to you?" Jack approached the man.  
He gave them a look that was more curious than wary. "Of course, may I ask what this is regarding."  
"We were told that you met with Roger Hollinghurst after lunch yesterday." the Inspector began.  
"Yes, we did meet in the early afternoon to go over a few details of his presentation." Marsh confirmed, "Has anything happened to him, I noticed he failed to attend this morning‘s debate?"  
"I’m sorry to inform you, Mr Hollinghurst has been found dead this morning." Jack said in his most dour policeman’s voice.  
Marsh’s eyes widened in shock. "Oh dear." he muttered, "How dreadful. What happened?"  
"Our investigation is ongoing." The Inspector gave the standard answer, "We’re currently trying to reconstruct his movements."  
"You mentioned a presentation," Miss Fisher inserted herself into the conversation, "was Mr Hollinghurst a speaker at the symposium?"  
Ronald Marsh jumped at her question, trying to regain his composure. "He was of the speakers at the opening day, yesterday, yes. He gave the most inspiring lecture on the Codex Regius." he gushed. "The GKS 2365 that is, of course."  
"Of course." Jack confirmed, as if he knew exactly what the man was talking about. Phryne couldn’t suppress an amused smile. Mr Marsh on the other hand didn’t seem to notice the Inspector’s confusion. He continued unperturbed, talking mainly to Phryne.  
"He was an expert on Scandinavian manuscripts. He had only just returned from Copenhagen to study the Codex in person. It was most fascinating. He was particularly interested in the Lokasenna and the Alvísmál, from a palaeographic point of few."  
Phryne nodded. "Was he a collector, too? I believe I saw several manuscripts at his home."  
"Indeed, he was." Marsh confirmed "Although he always complained about how hard it was to get any good samples in Australia, he had some rather stunning pieces."  
"Did you see him after his lecture?" Jack decided to cut the enthusiasm short.  
"Why of course, we went to have a little celebratory drink. His lecture only ended half past five." Mr Marsh added quickly.  
"And where did you go after that?"  
"Well, I went home to my wife. I couldn’t say were Roger went. But a lot of the participants would go and take dinner here at the Hotel." He shrugged apologetically. "Not the most illustrious of locations, I know, but most of us are academics, we don’t get the kind of salary to afford the Windsor and I’ve been told the food here is quite edible."  
He turned back to Phryne "If you’re interested, you should stick around. We’ll have a very interesting lecture coming up on a manuscript belonging to the Melbourne University. A 16th century Book of Hours from Catalonia. It has the most intriguing history. It was apparently used to transmit coded messages during the war. Outrageous abuse of such a magnificent edition, of course, but it does add to the allure. Not that it would need to, considering it is said to have been written by..."  
"Juana the mad." Phryne finished the sentence for him.  
Marsh’s eyes widened. "You have heard of it?"  
Phryne manages a wry smile. "You could say I am rather familiar with that particular manuscript." she said.  
She wasn’t particularly keen on remembering that case. It had brought Jack back to her at least, but the memory, not only of their estrangement, but also of the treatment of women in academia and not least of all how hurt Mac had gotten in all of it, left her with an array of rather painful memories and it felt double wrong to remember them here at the Grand of all places. Thankfully she felt Jack’s hand lightly on her back grounding her in the here and now, and she started scanning the room for the person she knew would be near if the Book of Hours was concerned.  
"She’s next to the podium." Jack said quietly and suggested: "How about you go and catch up with Miss Mason, while I interview Mrs Cobb again."

The room was slowly filling, Phryne noticed. Apparently Ronald Marsh had been right and the lecture on the Book of Hours was highly anticipated. As she snaked her way through the thickening crowd, Phryne kept an eye on the person she assumed would be giving the lecture.  
Beatrice Mason hadn’t changed much since they had last met. She had clearly made an effort with her appearance today, though, her hair seemed almost tamed and her clothes were uncommonly neat. She was looking about herself a little pensive, clutching her notebook to her chest, but that was, as Phryne well knew, her usual expression. Mac had kept her in the loop about Beatrice’s academic progress, as well as her deepening friendship with Charlie Streete. After all Phryne paid for the girls education, so she had a vested interest, but she had also found that she had genuinely liked her, despite, or probably more for her oddities and outright demeanour. Finally she reached her.  
"Hello Beatrice." she greeted her friendly. Beatrice looked up at her, a look of confusion on her face.  
"Miss Fisher. I did not expect to see you here." she stated.  
"Neither did I when I left the house this morning." Phryne replied with a bright smile, "I should have expected to see you here though." she admitted.  
"I’m presenting the Book of Hours; mine and Professor Katz’ work on the manuscript." Beatrice replied.  
Phryne smiled. "So I’ve heard. Congratulations." she said genuinely, "Could I ask you a few questions? Not about the book, I think I’ve learned everything I could ever want to know about that the last time." she clarified.  
"That is unlikely." Beatrice disagreed. "You have only learned very selected facts about the book." she elaborated.  
"More than enough for me." Phryne assured her, "Do you know a Mr Roger Hollinghurst?" she asked, before Beatrice could begin to argue, "He gave a speech here, yesterday."  
"Yes, it was a very interesting lecture." Beatrice nodded, "We spoke afterwards. I didn’t like him."  
Phryne raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "Why not?"  
Beatrice frowned, trying to find the right words. "He reminded me of dead rats." she stated finally.  
Phryne’s eyebrows rose a little higher, but she nodded understandingly. "I don’t suppose you stayed for dinner yesterday?" she asked.  
Beatrice shook her head. "No. Charlie took me home after the last lecture."  
Phryne smiled. So what Mac told her was true. "Thank you Beatrice. It was very nice to see you again. All the best for your presentation."

Jack’s conversation with Mrs Cobb wasn’t nearly as pleasant. The woman was just as aloof and brusque as she had been in the last murder case she had been involved in. But she confirmed that Hollinghurst had returned for dinner.  
"Was anyone with him?" the Inspector asked.  
"He had a woman with him." Mrs Cobb stated.  
Jack listened up. "A woman? Have you seen her before in the hotel or maybe at the conference?"  
Mrs Cobb thought about it for a moment. "Can’t say I have, now that you mention it." she replied finally.  
"Could you describe her?" Jack tried not to give away his excitement.  
"Dark hair, nice dress. Nothing too extravagant, but suited her. The shoes didn’t go very well with it though." the Hotel owner decreed.  
"Was she wearing boots?"  
Mrs Cobb raised an eyebrow at the question.  
"She was." she confirmed.  
"When did they leave?" Jack continued.  
"Late, they were among the last guests." the answer came instantly, "They were quite inebriated at that point." she added after a short hesitation, "And before you say anything, we seize to serve alcohol at the legal hour, but we can hardly rip the glasses from our guests hand." she defended herself against any possible accusation, "Besides, I believe they may have brought their own supply."  
Jack took a deep breath, but decided not to push the point. If it was the same woman and the same method she had used on Boyd it was actually likely she would bring her own supply to make sure her victim was suitably incapacitated.  
"What time did they leave exactly?" he asked.  
"About nine. They left the Hotel. It didn’t look like they were ready to let the evening end yet."  
Jack couldn’t tell if what he heard in her voice was judgement or just her normal disapproving tone she seemed to have as a fall back. He didn’t really care either.  
"Thank you Mrs Cobb. That was very helpful. If you don’t mind, I would like to send a constable by for you to have a look at some pictures to see if you can identify the woman. It won’t take long." he apprehended any complaint from her side.  
She smiled thinly. "Of course, Inspector."

The two detectives met up again in the hotel lobby. Phryne had used the time to chat to a few other researchers at the symposium. Most of them were useless as witnesses, only talked about Hollinghurst’s academic achievements. Only two or three had spent any time with him after his speech. One had remembered a woman who had accompanied him for dinner, but couldn’t remember where they had gone afterwards. Another had seen them leave together. Jack confirmed her suspicion when she told him and briefed her on Mrs Cobb’s statement.  
"So it is the same killer. The question is why she picked those two victims." Jack summed up their findings.  
Phryne tilted her head in agreement. "Let’s see if our dismissed servants can shed some lights on that." she suggested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codicology is the study of codices and manuscripts as physical objects. Essentially what Beatrice does in ‘Juana the Mad’. Palaeography is the study of historic handwritings, which is sometimes seen as a subfield to codicology, sometimes verse visa, depending on which side you’re asking. The organisation I made up.  
> The Codex Regius (GKS 2365 4°) is a Icelandic manuscript from around 1270, containing Old Norse poems (mostly of the Elder/Song Edda). It is to be distinguished from manuscript GKS 2367 4to, which is also known as Codex Regius and contains the Snorra/Prose Edda. CR (65) was held in Denmark since 1662 and was returned to Iceland in 1971.  
> Lokasenna & Alivísmál are poems in the collection.


	9. What Secret Darkness Human Hearts Hide

Mrs Cavendish’s Domestic Agency was a hive of activity. Mrs Cavendish was loath having to sacrifice any of her precious time to the two detectives, but Jack’s warrant card didn’t allow for opposition. She made a point, however, to let them know just how inopportune the disruption was. Neither of them was particularly impressed by it.  
"We’re here to ask about the maid you placed with Roger Hollinghurst." Jack began. Mrs Cavendish gave him a spiteful look.  
"Which one?" she asked impatiently.  
"You facilitated the placement of the last three of his maids, didn’t you?" Phryne asked as innocently as she could.  
"I procured the last five of his maids." Mrs Cavendish corrected her coolly, "The man went through them like they were going out of fashion. Which they are not." she added sharply. "I had a mind not to send anyone anymore, but times are desperate and people need any work they can get."  
"Did he dismiss all of them?" Phryne inquired.  
"Not at all. He sacked Evie, the first one we got him, last year. Salary dispute apparently. The next one was, one moment..." she went to a filing cabinet and got out a manila folder. "Oh, yes; Sarah. She quit after three weeks: Wouldn’t say why. Came in rather hysterical one afternoon and caused a dreadful scene, but wouldn’t say what had happened, only that she would never go back. He couldn’t explain it either, hinted there might have been some mental imbalance."  
Mrs Cavendish shrugged. "The next was Joyce, she lasted longest so far, about ten months. Unfortunately she quit about a month ago. "  
"Because she was in the family way?" Phryne asked. It was the logical conclusion to draw from what the other servants had told them about her.  
The other woman nodded. "Six months gone, I think. I believe it was her husband’s idea that she’d stop working. Quit the agency as well, she did." she sniffed.  
"Mr Hollinghurst‘s valet hinted that there was an altercation with the next one." Phryne prodded. Mrs Cavendish rolled her eyes in exasperation.  
"Yes, you could say that. We’d send Elsa about three weeks ago. Last week I received a phone call from Mr Hollinghurst, steaming with rage. I’ve never known him like that. Threatened to press charges against the agency for sending him this, well, I shan’t repeat what he called her. Of course I immediately asked Elsa what had happened, but she was just as rude. Some of the words she used, my, I had never heard before. It was most upsetting. When I told her of Mr Hollinghurst‘s dismissal she said it was just as well, because there wasn’t enough gold in Bendigo to make her go back. Of course I had to let her go after that display, too." Mrs Cavendish’s look dared any of the detectives to criticise her conduct in this case.  
"Do you still by any chance have addresses of Joyce and Elsa?" Jack asked as harmlessly, as possible.

“That was interesting, wouldn’t you say Jack?” Phryne commented as they returned to their cars. Jack tilted his head thoughtfully.  
“Oh, there’s clearly a pattern, Jack.” she exclaimed incredulous.  
“No doubt, Miss Fisher,” he agreed, “but I have also no doubt that any conversation with the agency your aunt obtains her housekeepers from would sound similar.” he pointed out.  
Phryne rolled her eyes. “She was awfully vague on details, I give you that.”  
“My guess would be she probably didn’t want to know.” he supposed.  
She huffed.  
“Yes, she seems just the type to look the other way.” she said full of disgust.  
“Where to now?” she asked reaching the Hispano, “Joyce Reynolds?”  
Jack threw a glance at his watch.  
“Too late.” he noted. “I have to go to the station, get started on the paperwork, send someone to Mrs Cobb to identify the woman Hollinghurst was with and I’ll let Collins get the maids in tomorrow.”  
Phryne took a peek at the time, too. “We missed lunch.” she observed, sounding a little astonished.  
Jack sighed.  
“So we did.” he agreed wistfully.  
“Well,” she regained her usually aplomb with ease, “if you’ll be buried in forms for the rest of the day, I’ll go and sniff around the Grand a little more, maybe I find a few more people who knew Hollinghurst. And I may telephone Aunt P, since she has, as you so politely pointed out, had trouble keeping a housekeeper she has been forced to switch agency a few times, maybe she can get us a second opinion on Mrs Cavendish.” she gave him a peck in the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be late for dinner, Inspector.”  
“Don’t get in trouble until then, Miss Fisher.” he replied, having to restrain himself not to pull her in for a proper kiss, even if it was only a chaste one. They were in public after all.

Suiting her actions to her words, Phryne returned to the Grand Hotel and mingled with the guests of the symposium. It seemed she had just missed Beatrice presentation, but it appeared to have been rather a success, even if she overheard a few of the older men mumbling critically about the fact that a young girl had given the presentation or was even allowed access to such an extraordinary piece. Phryne kept her society smile firmly in place hoping those particular specimens would be dead and buried before they could do any serious damage to Beatrice academic career. The girl had enough to fight against at the university as it was.  
She chatted rather amicably with a kind old gentleman, who told her he owned a second-hand bookshop Little Collins Street that prided itself on a very well-assorted selection of books from the 18th century. His pride and joy was apparently a first edition of Swift’s “Directions to Servants” that had presumably once belonged to Richard Burke himself. Phryne listened and smiled, even though she had her doubts about the validity of this history lesson. It turned out he had known Hollinghurst, but didn’t share much common ground with him, since their victim had specialised in medieval manuscripts and had been rather elitist about it, too. But he had noticed “that pretty lady” with him during supper, but couldn’t remember more about her, other than that she had had dark hair.  
Other people she talked to confirmed his general assessment. Hollinghurst had been an expert on his field, but he had also been a snob about it, a feature that had not exactly endeared him to those who specialised in younger publications. Several had seen him with a dark haired woman at dinner, but few had taken special notice of her, it had apparently been a common occurrence for Hollinhurst to have changing female company.  
She returned home just in time to call her aunt before she would have to listen to a lecture about appropriate hours. This way she only had to endure Aunt Prudence laments of how difficult it was to find someone to take over the Hospital Fund‘s finances, after the last treasurer of that charity had been arrested for money laundering and helping her husband to run a drug cartel.  
“Now, no one wants to touch that position with a ten feet pole, of course.” Prudence complained. “Tilly really was such an asset to the city.”  
“For those she didn’t turn into addicts, I’m certain she was, Aunt P.” Phryne commented dryly.  
By the time she managed to steer the conversation towards what she was actually interested in the front door opened and Jack came home, shaking the rain from his hat and coat. When he saw her at the telephone he tilted his head in question.  
“Aunt P” she mouthed, rolling her eyes.  
He nodded quietly and pressed a kiss to her temple. He then indicated he would be waiting in the parlour and she gestured for him to prepare her a drink. He grinned at her exasperated face but nodded.  
Fifteen minutes later she finally managed to end the call and almost lunged at the whiskey tumbler waiting for her on the table. Jack was bent over his French once again while he waited for her to finish up. Phryne couldn’t hide a smile at the furrows in his brow as he tried to memorise a particularly tricky word.  
“Fais progrès?” she asked. He looked up at her blankly for the moment it took until the words settled in and started making sense.  
He shrugged. “Jane seems to think I do. I feel like I’m just treading water most of the time.” he admitted.  
She smiled but shook her head.  
“En Français.” she ordered.  
He groaned playfully at her.  
“Je ne suis pas à la hauteur.” he declared.  
She chuckled. “You’re clearly underestimating your own abilities, Jack.”  
He snorted. “I doubt it.”  
She sauntered over to him, hips swaying, her eyes never leaving his.  
“Mais tu sons très séduisant comme ça, mon grand homme attrayant.” she purred as she dropped in his lap.  
Jack only understood half of what she was saying, but the tone, and the way she wrapped her arms around his neck made the meaning perfectly clear.  
“Admittedly this whole thing would be a lot more enticing if I could spend more time studying with you. It sounds much nicer coming out of your mouth than mine.” he stated with a sly smile, wrapping his arms around her waist.  
She tilted her head as if she had to think about it.  
“Pas vrai. Mais on pourrait discuté ça.” she smouldered and kissed him passionately.  
For a long moment Jack was playing with the thought of carrying her up the stairs this instant and to hell with dinner, this case, and all the rest of it. Unfortunately his stomach rather forcefully reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so he forced himself to ignore the immortal longings in his neither regions, and change the subject to less tempting prospects as soon as he could breathe again.  
“Did you get any information from your aunt?”  
Phryne sighed, both in disappointment of Jack’s never ending self-control, and in remembrance of the telephone call she had just completed.  
“Not enough for amount of time invested.” she stated sourly, “Aunt P had employed Mrs Cavendish’s agency once upon a time, but she never got along with the woman. Apparently she wouldn’t listen to her complaints about the servants she sent back and send her the same type all over again.” She rolled her eyes. “Anything from the maids? Have you found them?”  
Now it was Jack’s turn to sigh.  
“No, Hugh couldn’t reach Mrs Reynolds yet and Miss Greer no longer lives at the address she left with the agency. She seems to have fallen on hard times after her dismissal. I hope we can find them tomorrow, if not we’ll have to try the other two Mrs Cavendish mentioned.”  
"Still, it’s seems rather clear, why Mr Hollinghurst was a victim of our killer." Phryne took a sip of her whiskey.  
Jack could only agree.  
"I should have known when I talked to Beatrice." she chided herself.  
"Miss Mason?" Jack asked surprised. "But she hardly knew Hollinghurst."  
"She knew enough to know he was repugnant." Phryne pointed out.  
"She had met him once." he countered.  
"She said he reminded her of dead rats." she said and added by way of explanation, "Mr Oliver would depose dead rats in her room."  
Jack nodded. He hadn’t known that detail, but it didn’t surprise him. The former star medical student had been a particularly vile creature.  
"You know my stance on intuition Jack, I should have trusted hers."  
"I’m not sure Miss Mason would give much on intuition. I doubt it’s scientific enough for her." he tried to lighten the mood.  
"When it comes to harassment and sleazy characters, intuition is hardly anything else than hard earned experience." she said dismissively. "And Beatrice knows about harassment better than most. Which is saying something. And even Mrs Cavendish could smell it, though she is too niminy-piminy to entertain the thought."  
Jack tilted his head.  
"You can’t presume all women have a sixth sense about this sort of thing." he stated.  
"Yes I can. Well, not all, but most do." she disagreed. "Like I said, hard won experience. We’re faced with them all our lives. And before you say anything, Jack. It doesn’t matter what you look like, where you come form or what kind of woman you are, there are always men who seem to think a woman has no other value in the world than to entertain them or make them feel better about themselves, usually at the expense of her own comfort.” she said heatedly.  
“I know that, Phryne. I’ve worked as a policeman for nearly twenty years. I’ve seen what men do to women.” he asserted quietly.  
“I’m not even talking about violence, Jack.” she told him. “It’s small, seemingly harmless things, a hand where you don’t want it, a look that goes anywhere but your face, a whistle in the streets, a salacious comment you didn’t invite, a body pressed against you in a crowded tram. Little things which in on themselves are almost harmless but not quite. Just small enough so you can’t really complain, because what have they done really and maybe it’s only because you’re such a cold fish that you don’t like it, no one’s complained before and really it’s a compliment you don’t even deserve.” She made a face that would have been almost comical if she hadn’t been so riled up. “And if it were once it would be a little unsettling but you’d be fine, but it never is, Jack. It adds up over years. It happens again and again and you learn to recognise the type.”  
Jack listened quietly. The way she talked he knew she was being serious. It was one of the many aspects about what being a woman meant he had never much thought about before he had met Phryne and the women she surrounded herself with. Just like before the case at the university, he had never considered the daily fights Mac had to brave to be even accepted among her male colleagues, to say nothing of respected. He knew life was generally harder for women if they didn’t conform to the role of obedient wife society generally intended for them. His mother had made sure he was aware of that, but the little daily trials, like most men, he had never been aware of, until Phryne had come along and rubbed his nose in it, both purposefully and inadvertently, by simply not accepting any limitations or proprieties impressed on her sex.  
“Miss Hastings didn’t seem to have any kind of inkling towards that.” he noted thoughtfully. Phryne huffed impatiently.  
“She’s hardly more than a child.” she said. “And she’s only been there a few days. I have no doubt Mr Hollinghurst was charm itself in the beginning. The worst ones always are.”  
Her fingers clenched around her glass. It was clear she didn’t just think of their murder victims anymore. His arms almost inadvertently tightened around her body. He couldn’t protect her from the past, but the instinct to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe from the world was there. He carefully loosened his hands, only lightly caressing her sides and lower back. She would either laugh or get mad at him if she knew, he guessed, so he tried to only assure her of his support and love.  
“Still, as accurate as yours usually is, womanly intuition isn’t admissive evidence yet.” Jack pointed out.  
He mostly said it, knowing that, if she could argue with him, she would not get lost in dark memories. To his relieve it worked. Her eyes cleared, fixing on him as her head snapped down towards him.  
“Please Jack, it’s quite obvious they were both rapists.” she exclaimed.  
“We don’t know that until we have talked to our witnesses.” he argued, “but,” he acquiesced, before she could mount the defence of her point, “something was definitely going on. So we agree that both men were murdered because of their attitude towards women. Let’s phrase it like that until we have the maids’ statements.”  
She huffed indignantly, but he ploughed on:  
"The next question is how our murderess knew about it. It seems unlikely she had intimate knowledge of both the working girls of Cremorne and the maids from an agency in South Yarra.“  
“The crime scenes were close.” Phryne pointed out, “It’s unlikely to be a coincident that they were only separated by the river.”  
He had to agree. “But it’s also highly unlikely that Mr Boyd and Mr Hollinghust have ever met. Or Miss Cary and one of Mr Hollinghursts maids.”  
“Maybe they go to the same church or something like that.” Phryne speculated.  
The idea wasn’t entirely absurd, at least not more than anything Jack could come up with.  
“They could have the same confessor.” he suggested.  
Phryne raised an eyebrow. “Why would they confess to being raped? Even the catholic church can hardly deem that the woman’s fault.”  
“It can, according to St Augustine.” Jack contradicted.  
Phryne’s eyebrows shot up a little higher. “You’ve read St Augustine, Jack Robinson?”  
He shrugged. “I’m interested in Philosophy.” he replied.  
“Now that I believe.” she stated, “But if it’s true what you say St Augustine can go to hell as far as I‘m concerned.”  
“I’m fairly sure the saint part renders that impossible.” he smirked.  
Before Phryne could reply to that they heard the front door go. Jane stood in the hallway, drenched to the bone, trying to peel her soaked coat off her arms.  
“I’m not late for dinner, am I?” she asked when she noticed the adults coming to the door to the parlour to see what the commotion was about.  
“I didn’t take an umbrella and then it took ages to find a cab in this weather and the nurses wouldn’t let me back in to call Bert and Cec, after visiting hours where over.” she shook her head like a wet dog and made a face.  
“We haven’t eaten yet.” Phryne told her with a laugh, “I think Mr Butler has been keeping dinner warm for you.”  
“But maybe you should change out of those wet clothes first, before you catch a cold.” Jack added, ever the pragmatist.  
Jane grinned at him. “Back in a jiff. Don’t start without me.”  
She dashed up the stairs.  
“She’s been to see her mother?” Jack asked superfluously.  
Phryne nodded. “She wanted to go alone. From what the home tells me Mrs Ross is doing very well at the moment. Apparently having Jane back has really helped her improve.”  
He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She leaned into him, interlacing her fingers with his on her shoulder. Words weren’t needed. He knew Anna Ross was still a source of insecurity for her, even if Jane had gone to her a thousand times to get her to sign the adoption papers. It never changed the fact that there was a woman who had a claim on the girl, stronger and more primal than anything Phryne and Jane could ever build. At the same time she wanted the woman to be as well as possible for Jane’s sake. It was one of life’s endless paradoxes that could never be solved one way or another, but that you can only choose to accept, and she had. She had found the other woman a good home where she was being cared for and she had been true to her word that Jane could visit her whenever she wanted. It still felt good to have Jane come back home from those visits and Jack quietly but unwavering by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Directions to Servants’ is a satirical essay by Jonathan Swift, which was published (posthumously) in 1745.  
> Richard Burke was Governor of NSW 1831-37. He approved the settlement on the Yarra and named it Melbourne. Nowadays he has several streets named after him. 
> 
> Translation of Jack’s and Phryne’s little French conversation (At least what it’s supposed to mean, my French is a bit rusty):  
> \- Making progress?  
> (…)  
> \- In French.  
> \- I’m incapable.  
> (...)  
> \- But you sound very attractive like that, my big handsome man.  
> (…)  
> \- Not true. But we could discus that.
> 
> St Augustine of Hippo was a Christian saint & philosopher of the 4th century. He had very interesting and not very fun views on rape, especially in regards to the myth of the rape of Lucrece (Basically: If it hadn’t been her fault, then she wouldn’t have killed herself.)


	10. He Swells his Stream with Tears

The next day brought yet another early morning in the morgue. Only this time breakfast wasn’t half as nice, Jane having opted for breakfast in bed with one of the books she had discovered while cataloguing Phryne’s library. At least Dot and Mr Butler where there, but it didn’t help much to drive the morning fog out of Phryne’s brain. As much as she supported her friend and the general idea of women teaching at the university, on mornings like this she cursed Mac’s double and triple commitments.  
Then they arrived at the morgue, dry but well chilled this time, the coroner seemed in a foul mood just to make things even better.  
"Nothing much new. Death by exsanguination due to castration, high concentration of alcohol and acetylsalicylic acid in his blood. Time of death, as estimated, between three and five in the morning. Pretty much the same as the other guy." Mac rattled down, "And we found this in his trousers. Whoever tied him up probably dropped it and it slipped into a fold."  
She held up a small glass vile.  
"A perfume bottle." Phryne observed.  
"Except this one contained remnants of a highly concentrated solution of aspirin." Mac stated.  
"Our blood thinner?"  
The doctor nodded. "Anything else I can do for you two?"  
"Are you in a hurry doctor?" Jack asked tersely.  
Mac sighed. "I’m supposed to speak at a symposium at the women’s medical conference this afternoon and because of Mr Hollinghurst here I haven’t had time to prepare properly. And in this last month of winter people seem to get cabin fever. I had three violent deaths this week alone and I stopped counting cases of domestic violence and pub brawls." She sighed again, "I might just rehash my presentation from the medical examiner’s conference from last week. Oh, I almost forgot. It’s probably nothing to do with the murder, but he had an older wound on the back of his left hand. From the way it’s healed up probably about a bit over a week old, maybe two." she added in an afterthought.  
"What kind of a wound?" Phryne asked.  
"If I had to guess, I’d say someone stabbed him with a fork."  
The two detectives exchanged a look.  
"We really should have a talk with Mr Hollinghurst’s former maids." Phryne said.  
Jack could only agree. They bid Mac a good day and wished her all the best for her talk. They received sarcastic thanks in reply.

Phryne dropped Jack off at the station. She was loath to leave, but for once she had to do a debrief on the last case herself as Aunt Prudence had all but outright demanded a full report on the case of her murdered friend. The man had apparently been a dear friend of her late husband and even Phryne couldn’t bring herself to be flippant with her aunt this time.  
“I’ll be back before lunch.” she promised.  
Jack gave her a tiny smile “Take as long as you need, Phryne. I severely doubt we’ll solve this case in a morning.”  
She pouted a little, but he drowned out any protest by pressing his lips to hers in the kind of loving but chaste kiss they had agreed was acceptable for a semi-public environment, such as her car. He added another quick peck, before he got out and watched as she drove away, wincing at the speed she immediately gathered.

"I followed up on Mrs Reynolds address, Sir," Hugh reported as soon as he came through the door.  
"Well, where is she, Collins?” Jack asked a little impatiently. He really hoped there hadn’t been another incident of Hugh’s good heart over common sense.  
“It seems Mrs Reynolds has died two days ago." Hugh told him.  
Jack’s eyebrow’s shot up. That was unexpected.  
"Any information on how she died, Collins?" he asked.  
The Constable shook his head. "Not yet, Sir, but her death is subject of an investigation at Richmond Police Station. I’ve requested the file."  
“What about the other maid? Elsa?” Jack asked.  
“Elsa Greer, Sir,” Hugh confirmed, “she didn’t leave a forwarding address with her landlady when she had to vacate, so we’re still trying to locate her.”  
The Inspector nodded. “Right. Let me know when you get any more information Constable.”  
“Yes, Sir.” Hugh suppressed a proud smile “Oh, Constable Holderness came back from showing Mrs Cobb the photography books, while you were at the morgue.”  
“And where is he?” Jack inquired taking in the fact that the station was unusually quiet for this time of the day.  
“There was an incident in Elwood, an attempted robbery in a bottle shop. Sergeant Murphy took everyone, because they weren’t sure if the perpetrators were armed.” Hugh explained.  
The Inspector just sighed in exasperation. Mac had been right; people were getting restless and bored. The pile of arrest reports waiting to be signed on his desk, attested to that. And what kind of an idiot robbed a shop in the morning? Every semi intelligent crim would know that the till was fullest just before closing.  
“Right, send him in when he’s back.” he said settling in his office, where he started to attack that pile, so he could at least say he had done something productive this morning.  
Holderness and the other officers returned about an hour later, two men in custody, one of whom was nursing what was likely to be a broken nose. The other was ranting and raving and needed to be restrained by two officers. From what he said it seemed he was the owner of the shop who clearly hadn’t taken well to being held up. When he spied the Inspector in his office the Constable immediately reported in, obviously glad to have a reason to leave the two men behind for a moment.  
To Jack’s utter lack of surprise it turned out that Mrs Cobb hadn’t been able to identify the woman who had been with Hollinghurst at dinner. Even less surprising was that her description of the woman was no more than superficially similar to the mystery woman who had been seen with Charlie Boyd before his death. According to Constable Holderness, she was adamant the woman she had seen had also had dark hair, but her face had looked altogether different and she had had green eyes rather than brown.  
Jack suppressed a cascade of curses that threatened to break out of him at the news. Instead he took a deep breath and ordered to recheck the description with Morley and Ryland. Only when he was alone in his office with the door closed Jack allowed himself a heartfelt curse that would have made Dorothy Collins cross herself at least twice.  
"Such language, Jack." Phryne raised an eyebrow and closed the side door behind her.  
He hadn’t noticed her slipping in. But he didn’t have it in him to apologize, especially since he knew she certainly had heard worse in her life. Instead he told her the latest development.  
"Damn." Phryne mirrored his sentiment, "Do you really think it could have been someone else?"  
Jack shook his head. "I don’t see how. The modus operandi is too unique and the Boyd case hasn’t been in the papers in enough details to be copied so exactly. Maybe it’s two women working together, but it’s more likely the same woman and people only remember her differently. Unfortunately with eye witnesses that happens a lot." he sighed.  
"Possible." she agreed.  
“Well, for now we can only wait until Hugh finds out about those maids. What do you say we have an early lunch in the meantime?” she suggested.  
“Did you bring any?” he asked with a pointed look at the distinct lack of picnic hampers in his office. She rolled her eyes.  
“No Jack. I had the intention to get you out of your office, away from that dreadful case.”  
The corner of his mouth almost involuntary quirked up at the thought.  
“Pie cart?” he teased.  
“Careful, Jack Robinson, one day I might just take you up on it.” she warned with a sly grin.  
“Well, what was your plan then?” he asked.  
She raised an eyebrow.  
“You really should now me better than to expect me to have a plan, Jack.” she said, her smile not diminishing in the slightest.  
He acquiesced the fact with an inclination of his head.  
“Idea then.” he corrected, “Don’t tell me you don’t have any of those.”  
“Oh, I have plenty of ideas, Jack. Most of them don’t revolve around eating, however, that is your forte.” her smile widened to a mischievous grin.  
He gave her a thoroughly unamused look.  
“Fine,” he agreed being struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, “but if I’m to say where we’re going you’ll have to let me drive.”  
His grin fell nothing short of hers in its mischievousness.  
She groaned theatrically. “You know I can’t abide your driving.”  
“I can assure you, Miss Fisher, that feeling is entirely mutual.” he deadpanned.  
“That may be, but it is my car.” she pointed out.  
He tipped his head in acknowledgement.  
“In that case, you’ll have to pick a destination Miss Fisher.” he challenged.  
She rolled her eyes.  
“You’re impossible. If I’m deciding, we’re going to the Winsor.” she threatened, handing him his hat and coat.  
He shuddered involuntarily. She had taken him to that place a few times early on in their relationship, mostly because she enjoyed the poached lobster in butter sauce. Jack felt like a fish out of water in the elegant surroundings every time, but especially if he came off work and couldn’t change. Apart from that he found the serving sizes rather unconvincing.  
“If we’re doing that, you might as well safe your money and go directly for the pie cart, because that’s where I’ll be heading directly after.” he told her as he followed her out of the station.  
Her car was as usual parked right in front of the entrance in the ‘police vehicles only’ area. He had given up reprimanding her about it a long time ago. Not because her argument that the Hispano was ‘practically a police vehicle’ while she was working cases with him had convinced him, but more because he recognised a lost cause when he saw one.  
“Then make a better suggestion.” she replied rounding the car to get to the driver’s side.  
He sighed. “Go home and see if Mr Butler can make us some sandwiches?” he proposed weakly.  
Her laughter could probably be heard in Richmond.  
“See, food is where you truly excel, Jack.” she grinned.  
He tilted his head slightly.  
“I’m fairly sure that could be construed as an insult, Miss Fisher.” he said, but couldn’t banish a smirk from his face.  
She laughed again.  
“I didn’t say it was the only thing you excelled at, Darling.” she retorted with a wink.

Thankfully Mr Butler had no trouble producing, not only sandwiches, but also a light salad and some delicious creation featuring the leftovers from yesterday‘s roast. Jane was already out and about, again to some exhibition or other and Dot was fast asleep in the parlour, having put up her feet ‘just a minute, Mr Butler’ about half an hour ago, so the two Detectives took their lunch alone.  
An hour later they returned sated and satisfied to Jack’s office.  
"The Joyce Reynolds file, Sir, as requested." Constable Collins brought in a folder, "It seems she died two days ago at home." he reported.  
Jack skimmed through the file.  
"The Coroner’s report suggests her death was the consequence of an abortion." he noted.  
Hugh nodded. "Yes, Sir. The victim’s husband seems to blame a midwife from the women’s hospital, a Mrs Forbes, but the investigating officer doesn’t seem convinced."  
Jack didn’t feel like having a discussion about the difficulty of getting a conviction in abortion cases. And even if you could get one, like he had, with Phryne’s help, gotten a conviction for Butcher George, it was like fighting a hydra. As long as there was a demand for that kind of service, there would be people who provide it if they could make money out of it. One head gone, two new taking its place and the old problems remained the same: too many women died, but no one would talk.  
"Well, let’s get all we have on this suspect, Collins. Request a check through all stations, I want to know if she’s involved in any other cases of abortion, and ask about her in the hospital, what kind of reputation she has. I want to know as much as I can, before I bring her in for an interview." he ordered, "Try to avoid Dr MacMillan if you can." he added precautionary, “And bring in the victims husband, please.”  
“At least now we have the connecting factor between the victim’s victims.” Phryne said, shooting him a look, daring him to challenge her phrasing. He did not.  
“The women’s hospital. We know our murderer, or murderers have advanced medical knowledge, at least enough to know about the side effects of aspirin and both Franny and Joyce were treated there. Maybe the midwife in question treated Franny, too.”  
Jack let out a deep sigh. “It’s going to be difficult to find out.” he predicted. “The Hospital administration is usually very reluctant to give out that kind of information.”

Leo Reynolds turned out to be a lean, but strong man in his forties with hard dark eyes and a stubborn expression on his face. The deep bags under his eyes and his generally ragged demeanour suggested that he was indeed mourning his wife.  
He confirmed that he had encouraged Joyce to give up her work when her due date had approached.  
“Weren’t right, ‘er slavin’ away for that toff in ‘er condition. I’s alright with ‘er workin’ when we got married, Lord knows we can use the money, but she was gonna be a mum now.” he declared.  
“Did she ever talk to you about considering a termination?” Jack asked.  
“Nah. Never even crossed ‘er mind. I reckon it was that midwife, talked her into it. I’m betting she makes a pretty penny outta that sorta thing.” he sniffled loudly, „My Joyce woulda never done such a thing of ‘er own. She’s a good woman an’ a good wife, an‘ she woulda been a good mother.” he welled up visibly, “You get that woman, killed my Joyce Inspector.” he told him with determination.  
“Did your wife ever talk to you about her employer?” Phryne asked gently.  
The man frowned. “What’s ‘e got to do with anything?” he asked suspiciously.  
“Mr Hollinghurst was murdered yesterday morning, Mr Reynolds.” Jack informed him.  
“And you think my Joyce had somethin’ to do with it? Sorry to disappoint you Inspector, but yesterday morning my Joyce was already gone from this world and she ‘adn’t seen the fop since she left ‘im.”  
“We don‘t think your wife is involved,” Jack explained calmly, “but she worked for Mr Hollingurst quite some time, so maybe she knew something about why someone would want to kill him.”  
“So you’re not even tryin’ to get justice for ‘er, are ya?” Reynolds seemed on the verge of righteous anger now.  
“The investigation is officially conducted by Richmond Station, but we will definitely question Mrs Forbes.” Jack stated.  
That appeared to slightly calm the man. “Well, she didn’t say much about ‘im, but ‘e’s a prick, I could tell. Excuse me French.” he added with a critical look at Miss Fisher. “When she started out she loathed it. Came home cryin’ a couple’a times the first few weeks.“  
“Did she ever say about what?” Phryne asked interested.  
He shrugged. “She just said ‘e was a ‘orrible man. But we couldn’t afford for ‘er to loose the job, so she buckled up an’ soldiered on.”  
“Where were you yesterday morning, Mr Reynolds,” Phryne asked suddenly following a hunch, “between two and six shall we say?”  
He shot her a sharp look. “I’s sleeping.” he stated, “I’s at the police station all evening, that Sergeant wouldn’t let me go until ten and then I needed to clean up at home, didn’t I? Couldn’t leave the place like that, what with Joyce’s blood on the floor an’ all.”  
“Did you ever meet Mr Hollinghurst?” Phryne continued.  
Reynolds shook his head. “Nah, not my beat, that corner of town.”  
“So you never went there?” she pressed  
He levelled a piercing look at Jack. “You’re gonna let the sheila question me like that or are you up to doing your own work?” he asked acetous.  
The Inspector didn’t bat an eyelid. The insinuation wasn’t new and he doubted it would be the last time he heard it. It had never bothered him; he had always been gracious enough to accept someone else’s abilities. It only irritated him for Phryne’s sake that some men could only ascribe her capability to him being lazy. So other than shaming him as the man had clearly intended the remark merely served to lower Jack’s already pretty low opinion of him some more.  
“Just answer the question.” he ordered coolly.  
Reynolds eyes flashed furiously but he complied. “No, I dinna set foot in the bastards fancy apartment, I dinna speak to ‘im, wouldn’ta known him if I’d met ‘im. That good enough for yer?” he spat.  
“For the moment.” Jack told him.

“You think he might have killed Hollinghurst?” he guessed when they had released Mr Reynolds again. Phryne shrugged.  
“If we assume that Hollinghurst was having his way with his wife that could be a motive.” she suggested. Jack nodded slightly.  
“What about Boyd?” he asked.  
“Maybe they knew each other. They lived in the same neighbourhood.” she offered a little less convincing. “Mr Reynolds strikes me as the type who might go out for a good night out now and then. They might have met in a pub. Morley said Boyd had a way of riling people up and Reynolds doesn’t strike me as a punch once and walk away type. Or maybe Morley and Boyd tried to con him.” she fired out varying theories.  
“It still seems a little excessive to cut of a man’s privates over a minor dispute.” Jack objected. “And none of that explains the woman we know was with the men before they died.”  
“Could be a coincident, maybe she really was just another prostitute trying for clients. Or maybe they were in cahoots somehow.” Phryne sighed. She didn’t need Jack to point out that none of this was particularly convincing.  
“I’ll have someone ask Morley if he knows Reynolds.” he offered despite of it. “But maybe we should start with interviewing the midwife and see what she can tell us about Joyce and her husband.” he suggested, “If she did treat both women, she might have a motive to kill the men. Or maybe she knows who does.”


	11. As Much as a Woman Could

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven’t done any trigger warnings on individual chapters and rather considered the first note and the tags as standing warning, but I’m doing a special one for this chapter:  
> TW for mentions of a miscarriage and violence against a pregnant woman.

The first snag in the interview with Patricia Forbes was her appearance. She was blonde. Of course Jack knew enough about what people, especially women, could do to change a detail like that but it was a first tiny setback none the less. He tried not to let it derail him as he settled opposite the midwife at the interview table. Phryne had elected to sit on the corner of the table next to him.  
“You’ve been quite vocal about your opinions on abortions, Mrs. Forbes.” Jack pointed out. She gave him a bright and utterly insincere smile.  
“In our enlightened times, Inspector, even women are allowed to hold and voice a political opinion. We’re even permitted to vote these days.”  
Jack had to remind himself that he himself was on occasion quite fond of sarcasm and that that was not a reason to think the midwife more suspect than before. Especially, since she did have a point.  
“Mr Reynolds seems to think you did more than just voice your opinion. He blames you for the death of his wife and infant.” he stated evenly.  
“Does he now?” Anger was now radiating from Patricia Forbes. Her voice was like ice. “Two things Inspector: One if I, hypothetically, would conduct such a procedure you would never hear about it because I’m damned good at what I do and because I actually believe in the Hippocratic oath. I would never risk the life of a patient unnecessarily.”  
Jack filed that under good-to-know. “And two?”  
“Two: I have never conducted or even attempted such a procedure on Joyce Reynolds. When she came to me abortion was literally the last thing on her mind.”  
“Why did she come to you?” Phryne asked gently. She could sense this wasn’t merely about the question of women’s rights, but that there was more to it. She was right. Patricia Forbes stared at her defiantly for moment then she deflated visibly.  
“She was halfway through a miscarriage when she came in.” she said quietly now, “The poor girl. Clinging her thighs together, begging me to safe her bub.”  
“But you couldn’t?” The midwife shook her head. Suddenly she looked very tired.  
“It was too far gone. I keep thinking if she had come earlier but the truth is, it wouldn’t have made a difference. That little one wasn’t going to life. It was all I could do to safe her.”  
Jack nodded. “Do you think someone else might have tried to terminate her pregnancy? Maybe she changed her mind and…”  
The Inspector never got to finish his question, because the fire in Mrs Forbes returned with a fury that nearly took his breath away. “Oh, someone terminated alright,” she spit. All the tiredness had gone and she was shaking with anger now, “judging from the bruises on her body by a well aimed kick to her belly.”  
Jack was taken aback. “You suspect the husband.”  
She shot him a look that could have killed a lesser man. “No, I suspect the Easter bunny. Of course I suspect Leo Reynolds. It wasn’t the first time she came in with bruises all over. Ask Dr MacMillan. He beat her into the hospital twice last year alone.”  
Jack swallowed hard. He had not been impressed with Mr Reynolds, but he had seemed genuine in his grief. Now he shuddered at the memory. Wife beaters were high up on Inspector Robinson’s list of most despicable individuals in the world. He had no doubt about the truth of Patricia Forbes’ words, her anger spoke for itself and besides he was sure Mac could and would confirm at least the beatings. It did, however, not correspond with the cause of death Dr Finley had found. So he tried to swallow the gall coming up his throat and returned to the autopsy report.  
“When you treated Mrs Reynolds, did you use a scalpel?” he asked trying to sound as neutral as he could.  
Patricia Forbes frowned at him. “No. That wouldn’t have helped.” she stated.  
“The coroner found several deep cuts in the vaginal area.” Jack explained, “He suggests an amateurish attempt to terminate her pregnancy.”  
The Midwife’s frown grew deeper. “What coroner would that have been?” she asked sceptically.  
“Dr James Finley.” Jack offered. He saw no reason not to tell her. To his surprise Mrs Forbes leaned back in her chair and let out a bitter laugh.  
“You might want to get a second opinion then Inspector.” she said dryly, “Dr Finley wouldn’t know his way around the female anatomy if he were given a map. Which I’m sure he has.”

It said a lot about how the day had been going that drilling German vocabulary after dinner with Jane was actually an improvement. Even when they got in an argument over the usefulness of the exercise.  
“I need to work on my grammar, words I can look up.” Jane argued, frustrated after failing to remember the meaning of the same word for the third time.  
“But you can’t always look up things, when you’re trying to talk to someone.” Jack countered patiently. “In conversations it doesn’t matter how well you can decline the words if you don’t know which words to use. And even if you make grammar mistakes, people will still understand you if you got all the words.”  
“But I don’t want to talk, I want to read.” she complained.  
The argument was interrupted when Mr Butler led Mac into the parlour, clearly ready to go out.  
“I didn’t know, you had plans for tonight.” Jack stated, offering Mac a glass of whiskey.  
“We didn’t.” she replied, graciously accepting the drink, “She called me about two hours ago, which is why I guess she isn’t ready yet.” she commented with a look at her watch.  
Jack couldn’t say he was surprised. He had already put his collected Shakespeare next to the bed, his equivalent of her wanting to dance the night away.  
Mac watched him closely. “Bad day?”  
Jack sighed. “Bad case.” he confirmed.  
“The men from the river?” Mac asked diplomatically with a look at Jane.  
The girl rolled her eyes and packed up her books.  
“I’ll be in my room, so you can talk about work.” she declared, “And I’ll be studying grammar.” she added pointedly.  
Mac looked after her as she stomped out the room and up the stairs. “That has to be the most incongruous threat ever made by an adolescent.” she commented when the girl had audibly closed the door to her room.  
Jack couldn’t help a chuckle.  
“Philosophic differences.” he explained.  
Mac quirked an eyebrow, but choose not to open that particular can of worms.  
“So is she right, do you want to talk about the case?” the she asked instead.  
He shook his head.  
“It’s getting more complicated and more atrocious by the day. I don’t mind not talking about it for today.” he admitted. “But I do have one question.”  
Mac smirked at his obvious inconsistency. Jack couldn’t turn his head off any more than her or Phryne, she knew that. She inclined her head to signal she was listening.  
“What is your professional opinion of Dr Finley?” he asked.  
Mac raised a surprised eyebrow. Jack didn’t usually talk to her about her colleagues unless they were suspects in a case, but Finely wasn’t the kind she could imagine getting into any sort of trouble. At least not the kind that would interest Jack.  
“Honestly?” she asked.  
“Please.”  
The Doctor took a sip of her whiskey before she answered.  
“Becoming a coroner was probably the wisest choice he’s ever made. That’s about the nicest thing I can say about him professionally.” she stated.  
Jack tilted his head inquiringly.  
“That way at least he can’t kill anyone.” she elaborated.  
The Inspector’s eyes widened. “That bad? How did he become a doctor?”  
Mac huffed. “Do you remember Mr Oliver?” she asked.  
Jack nodded. He would have preferred to forget the arrogant young man, but the entire case was rather firmly burned into his memory in all its details and the recent meeting with Miss Mason had added a few he hadn’t even been aware of.  
“Well,” Mac continued, “Dr Finley’s situation was very similar. Influential family, relatives in the profession, all that and his academic career was rubber-stamped as much as legally possible. The difference to Mr Oliver is that Finley wasn’t stupid enough to get caught cheating. Not that I think he ever tried to. The man is way too much of a scaredy cat for that. Why do you ask?” She emptied her glass.  
Jack thought for a moment how much he should tell Mac. He was fairly sure she knew Patricia Forbes, probably even liked her.  
“Someone has pointed out his assessment in one of our cases might not be the most accurate.” he put it as neutrally as he could.  
Mac nodded thoughtfully.  
“They’re probably right.” she guessed, „Refill?“  
Jack sighed deeply and heartfelt, but shook his head. Mac took pity on him.  
“Do you want me to have another look at your victim?” she offered, getting a new drink for herself.  
“It’s not actually my case.” he told her.  
“Then why do you care?”  
“Because the victim in that case is probably the motive in my case.” Mac quirked an eyebrow as she tried to untangle what he had just said.  
“Doesn’t that make it your case?” she asked finally.  
Jack sighed again.  
“Probably.” he took a deep draught of his whiskey. “The next time Phryne tries to drag me to a crime scene on my day off, remind me that it’s my day off.” he asked.  
Mac grinned. “I can tell you, but we both know it won’t make a difference.”  
Jack rolled his eyes but had to agree. He muttered something under his breath that to Mac sounded suspiciously like ‘freight train’.  
As if summoned by his words Phryne appeared in the door, wrapped in more red and black sequin than Jack had ever seen outside an arena, while simultaneously leaving the impression that there wasn’t enough fabric in the dress in total.  
“You started without me.” she said accusatorily to Mac.  
“Well, that wouldn’t happen if you were ready on time.” her friend deadpanned.  
By now Jack had noticed that there were actually parts of the dress that weren’t covered in tiny shiny disks, creating a fascinating contrast between dull and shimmering surfaces, which in turn emphasised the lines of her body underneath the dress, especially when she moved as she did now, towards the drink cart.  
“At least it seems it was worth the effort, if Jack’s reaction is anything to go by.” Mac commented dryly, “Close your mouth, Inspector.” she added genially.  
Jack blinked and tore his eyes off Phryne, focusing instead on his whiskey to distract himself from being caught staring.  
The smile on Phryne’s face was equally satisfied and mischievous.  
“Sure you don’t want to come?” she asked innocently. “Hone your new dancing skills?”  
Jack had a quick image of her dancing in that dress flashing through his mind. Especially those modern dances she had insisted he learn for the engagement party.  
“Very.” he assured her.  
Mac laughed loudly.  
“Afraid you’d have to arrest her for public indecency after all, Jack?” she teased.  
“Among other things.” he confirmed with a smirk. “And since my day off did count as that, even though it was so rudely sabotaged,” he threw Phryne a pointed look, “I have to actually get up early tomorrow morning.“  
Mac rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you’re the only one.” she chastised.  
“I don’t,” he told her, “I’m just the only one who is bothered by that, it seems.”  
“You may be right about that.” Mac grinned and raised her glass in a mock salute to him before draining the rest of her whiskey.  
“Shall we go?” she turned to her friend.  
Phryne knocked back her own drink and nodded. “Ready when you are.”  
Jack accompanied them to the hall, where he helped Phryne into her coat and kissed her good-bye.  
“So, do you want me to take a look at that body of yours in the morning?” Mac asked from the door.  
Jack nodded. “Please.”

The next morning Jack made his way to the morgue alone. Phryne had crept into bed in the small hours and had still been sleeping like a log when Mr Butler had discreetly knocked to wake Jack. For her sake he could only hope Mac had made it back earlier. Jack himself had spend the evening just as planed with the Bard, interspersed with the Wanderer of the Wasteland and had managed to shut the thoughts of the case out at least enough to fall asleep. After he made a call to have Joyce Reynolds body transferred to City South morgue by morning.  
A look at Mac told him she hadn’t made it home early enough, but would do very interesting things with her scalpel to him, should he make a mention of it, so he only greeted her and thanked her for doing this.  
“Let’s just see what we have,” she muttered, perusing Dr Finley’s notes.  
“Not much in here, but it appears to be in order.” she said sceptically rounding the autopsy table where Joyce Reynolds laid stretched out.  
Jack noticed with slight horror that it was still rather obvious she had been in an advanced stage of pregnancy. Mac didn’t seem to be bothered by it, or she was just scientist enough to regard it with enough detachment, but she lifted the shroud covering the woman without hesitation to have a look at her injuries. Jack re-red the examination report to distract himself, without noting anything new.  
Mac’s head appeared from under the shroud. "Your source was right. These are superficial cuts, not even the most incompetent crook would have had any success ending a pregnancy with those. I doubt they ever got near her womb. And they most certainly didn’t kill her, especially because they were inflicted post mortem." She dropped the sheet, "God knows why anyone would do that to the poor woman." she added grumpily.  
"Then what did she die of?" Jack asked.  
Mac picked the coroner’s report from his hands. She frowned and without warning lifted the sheet again, this time at the top end. Jack could avert his eyes just in time.  
"That imbecile didn’t even do an actual autopsy." Mac exclaimed. "I’m sorry Jack, but this is going to take a while. And you better hope I don’t run into Finley within the foreseeable future."

When he returned to his office Phryne was waiting for him. “You snuck out.” she stated half accusingly.  
“I assumed you would want to sleep a bit longer.” he replied, “Mac sends her love.”  
She seemed to accept that for the moment at least. “Did she find anything?”  
“Yes, Joyce Reynolds didn’t die from a blotched abortion.” he filled her in, “Mac is currently trying to determine what she did die of, since Dr Finley apparently didn’t see the need for an autopsy after he thought he had determined a cause of death. She’ll let us know as soon as she knows. In the meantime I suggest we turn to the other maid, provided that Collins has found her.”  
He sat down, lightly rubbing his temples.  
“Do we have any news on Miss Greer, Collins?” he asked, having called Hugh in his office.  
His Senior Constable straightened visibly. “Yes, Sir. We’ve located Miss Greer, she is on her way here.” he reported not without a degree of pride.  
Jack nodded appreciatively. “Very good, Collins. Good work.”  
“Are you up for this?” he asked Phryne.  
He wanted to offer her an out, other than him she had a choice after all and in her current state she could easily blame the late night for wanting to sit this one out.  
“I’m fine.” she assured him, her face a mask of determination.  
He hadn’t really expected anything else. Not only because she would resist any attempt to protect her, but because she was involved in this investigation and giving up wasn’t in her nature.  
“You had a long night.” he pointed out none the less, cursing for the umpteenth time the circumstances that had brought her to that first crime scene. A twinkle appeared in her eyes  
“I’ve solved cases with less sleep, Jack.” she said with a wink.  
He couldn’t suppress a relieved smile.  
“I’ll take your word for it, Miss Fisher.”

The girl that arrived at the station half an hour later and identified herself as Elsa Greer was younger than both detectives had expected. She was likely younger than Dot had been when Phryne had met her, but stood tall and didn’t show an ounce of intimidation. She was pretty, if a bit underfed, with a fresh round face, lovely dark brown hair and eyes almost the exact same colour.  
“Thank you for coming Miss Greer.” Jack greeted her and offered her the visitor chair Phryne had vacated when Elsa had entered. She sat down without a word and watched the two warily.  
“I understand were temporarily employed by Mr Roger Hollinghurst?” Jack began.  
Her face instantly went from wary to tight-lipped.  
"Is he having me arrested for the fork?" she asked defiantly.  
"Mr Hollinghurst was found dead two days ago." Jack informed her.  
The maid looked between the two detectives as if to search for confirmation. Then she let out a deep breath.  
"The devil take his soul." she said with heartfelt sincerity.  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a glance.  
"Would you tell us why you stabbed him with the fork?" Phryne asked.  
Elsa’s eyes narrowed.  
"You’re not trying to pin this on me?" she demanded.  
"We’re trying to find out the truth." Miss Fisher replied.  
"The truth is that he was a bastard who tired to have his way with me. I told him to bugger of, because I have a boyfriend, but he wouldn’t, so I grabbed the next thing I could get me hand on and tired to hurt him with it. He didn’t like it one bit."  
A sly grin snuck onto the girls face.  
"Hollered like a wounded dog he did. Had the other creep, Franklin, take him to hospital, because he was near fatally injured and kept screaming that he wanted me out of his apartment. I told him he couldn’t pay me enough to stay there." her face darkened, “The old cow at the agency weren’t impressed. Apparently he’d called her making a right stink, demanding she’d sack me, which she did, of course. But I haven’t seen him since and I didn‘t kill him. I already lost me job because of that waste of skin, weren’t worth going to gaol for.” she declared defiantly.  
Phryne couldn’t hide an appreciative smile at the spitfire in front of her.  
“We don’t think you killed him.” she told her. “But it would be good if you had an alibi for Thursday night.”  
“I’m staying with me auntie.” Elsa explained. “I share a room with my cousin. I was in all night, if I’d been out she‘d have noticed.” Jack made a note of it, but nodded in confirmation. Thankfully that alibi would be easy to confirm.  
“Did you ever meet Joyce Reynolds, the previous maid?” Phryne asked.  
Elsa nodded. “Yeah, she was there on me first day, showing me the ropes. I think she tried to warn me, but I didn’t get it, I just thought she was being odd.”  
For a second a shadow of insecurity flittered over her face, belying her angry bravado. “You believe me, don’t you?”  
“We believe you.” Phryne assured her immediately, “Do you think your employer could have been the father of Mrs Reynolds baby?” she inquired.  
Elsa shook her head. “You’d have to ask her. It’s possible I guess.”  
“Unfortunately Mrs Reynolds died two days ago.” Jack supplied.  
The maids face turned ashen. “Oh poor soul.” she whispered, “D’you think he did her in?” Her hand flew to her mouth at the thought of the fate she might just have escaped.  
“We don’t know yet,” The Inspector admitted, “but it seems unlikely. According to her husband she didn’t have any contact to him after she left her job. There is no reason to believe that that changed.”  
Elsa let out a long breath. “Poor soul.” she repeated.  
After that the girl didn’t have much else to tell them. She had never met anyone Mr Hollinghurst had socialised with and didn’t recognise the description of the mysterious woman. She had only told her aunt about her employer’s advances, after she had been brushed off so brusquely by Mrs Cavendish. That one time had been the only time she had met with Joyce, so there wasn’t much more she could tell them. After ten more minutes Jack thanked her for her help and released her.  
“That wasn’t much apart from another horrific story.” Phryne sighed.  
“We confirmed our suspicion at least.” Jack pointed out. Quietly he had to agree with Phryne. As glad as he was to have established with certainty why Hollinghurst had been singled out, it was nothing but a confirmation of what they had already more than suspected and he could have done without yet another woman having to tell them about the ordeal she had suffered at the hands of a man. He shuddered. Cases like this made him feel disgusted with his entire sex, a few gracious exceptions not withstanding.  
Thankfully one of them was manning the front desk and would hopefully have Mac’s autopsy report by now.  
“Collins!” he yelled through his office door.  
To his and Phryne’s surprise it wasn’t the round and open face of Hugh Collins that peeked through a few seconds later but that of Constable Fields. Jack frowned.  
“Where’s Collins?” he asked. After Elsa’s interview he was not in the mood to be patient.  
A wide grin spread over Fields’ face. “He was called to the hospital, just before lunch.” he said and whatever mood had been brewing in the two detectives in front of him was immediately rendered inconsequential.  
Phryne’s eyes widened “Dot.“ she breathed. She turned to Jack.  
“Go.” he urged her. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”  
She still looked a little unsure, so he gave her an encouraging smile.  
“I’ll only be doing paperwork anyways. I promise. Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wanderer of the Wasteland is a 1923 Zane Grey novel. I imagine it’s Jack’s book version of comfort food.  
> Even in the 1920s female anatomy was often not taught extensively at universities, officially for modesty reasons. Doctors who had never seen a real human vagina when they started practicing were not unheard of.  
> I’m not exactly sure what role a midwife would have played in that time as opposed to a doctor so there is probably some inaccuracy there. I imagine Mrs Forbes would be a doctor if becoming one was easier for women.


	12. Nine Crescent Moons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in places very silly. Please leave all expectations for realism, historical, medical or any other kind, at the door.

Phryne made it to the hospital in record speed, even by her own standards. The Hispano came to a screeching halt in a not more than semi-legal spot next to the entrance, but she couldn’t be bothered by trifles like that in at a time like this. Hugh had been called to hospital just before lunch which meant Dot had gone into labour at least two hours ago. Anything could have happened.  
She hastened to the maternity ward, grabbing a hold of the first nurse crossing her way.  
“I’m looking for Dot Collins.” she inquired. “She’s having a baby.”  
The other woman gave her an appraising look, then shrugged. “Another.” she muttered and gesticulated for Phryne to follow her.  
“We don’t normally allow this many people into a sick room.” she informed her primly. “Doctor MacMillan asked to make an exception. She even allowed the men in the ward.” her voice indicated that Mac might as well have invited raiding mogul hordes into the hospital. Knowing exactly who ‘the men’ most likely were Phryne couldn’t help thinking she wasn’t too far off.  
“She’s still in labour.” the nurse continued as she led the lady detective through the corridors. “Someone paid for her to have her own room.” Another tinge in her voice that rendered judgement rather than sharing information. Phryne decided she didn’t particularly like that nurse and hoped she wasn’t primarily responsible for Dot’s wellbeing.  
“Here we are.” her guide nodded at one particular green painted door.  
“You can go in.” she said and turned without another word, resuming the direction she had been heading when she had been derailed by imposing visitors.  
Phryne hesitated. She hated herself for it, but she did. She had seen women in labour before. One of the reasons she had sworn to herself to never get in that situation and she had absolutely no intention to ever witness that again. She was Phryne Fisher and she never did anything she didn’t want to do. But in there it was Dot, her friend and seuthingl partner and this would most likely be the most important day of her life. You’ll hate yourself even more if you don’t go in, you coward, she told herself and with a deep breath pushed the door open.  
“Miss Fisher. Oh thank God.” Hugh greeted her effusively.  
“Where is everyone?” Phryne looked around the empty room in astonishment.  
It was only Hugh fussing over Dot, who was dressed in a hospital gown and walking up and down the length of the room. No sight was to be seen of the many people the nurse had complained about.  
“My mother went to get father O’Leary,” Dot explained, “so we can have the baby baptised when it arrives. And Nell had to go to work and Mr Butler, Bert and Cec have gone to prepare for the celebration. I think Mr Butler wants to make something special. And of course they want to keep Jane busy until it’s over.”  
Phryne approved of that. There really was no point in scaring the girl off motherhood just yet, no matter her own opinions on the subject.  
“And my mother has promised not to come here, because she and Dot have, well, different opinions. On a lot of things.” Hugh added sheepishly.  
“She said giving birth is hard enough without arguing, so she’d stay away.” Dot amended her husband’s statement.  
“But I‘m to call her first as soon as the little one’s here.” Hugh stressed.  
“I see.” Phryne nodded thoughtfully, “So I take it this will take a while then?”  
“The midwife says it’ll be hours still.” Dot explained with a desolate tone that was not at all like the Dorothy Collins Phryne knew and loved. Hugh gently patted her hand. A mistake he immediately came to regret when a contraction hit and Dot squeezed his hand with the force of a vice while she locked her jaw to keep herself from crying out. It didn’t work completely. Both Hugh and Phryne winced in sympathy.  
“How am I going to do this for hours?” Dot groaned desperately after the pain had abated and she had caught her breath. Neither of the two people present had an answer.  
“Has Mac seen you?” Phryne asked finally, unable to think of anything else even though she knew the answer.  
Dot nodded. “She was here when I came in. She said she’d be back when it was time. I wouldn’t want to bother her too much, it’s not like she can do anything after all.”  
Phryne nodded. Now that was the Dot she knew and loved, always putting other people before her own comfort.  
“So what where you planning on doing while we wait?” she asked cheerfully. Dot and Hugh exchanged a look.  
“We were kind of hoping you might have an idea, Miss.” Hugh confessed.

By the time Jack made it to the hospital it was getting dark. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what would be expecting him. He’d been here for a birth once before, when Rosie’s sister had had her first babe. He remembered endless hours in a corridor before the maternity ward and Billy, Rosie’s brother-in-law going half mad with worry and impatience. He remembered they had been there mostly for him, rather than Sarah, who he hadn’t seen until the next day when the new family member was being officially introduced to the world. He tried to brace himself for a Hugh Collins, and probably a Phryne Fisher, who were bundles of nerves rather than human beings.  
He should have known better.  
When he reached the maternity ward and asked the matron about Mrs Collins she only pointed down the corridor. “Second on the left.” she said. Jack frowned. Was it over already? He had taken rather long at the station, he reasoned. On top of his own paperwork for the Hollinghurst case, of which the Commissioner had demanded triplicates, there seemed to be a lot of petty crimes going on this time of year. Mac had been right, the number of pub brawls and skirmishes was definitely up and unfortunately all the reports on those incidents needed his signature. So it was possible he had missed the whole thing and Dot was already a proud mother receiving visitors.  
Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the scene in the hospital room, however.  
The first thing he noticed was that there was clearly no baby yet. The second was Phryne and Alice Yates standing in a strange embrace in the middle of the room. The stood a few feet apart tilting towards each other, each woman having one hand on the other’s hip and the others meeting above their heads. Dot, Hugh, Cec and Bert were sitting on the bed yelling out what at first seemed like random words.  
“Sugar Loaf Mountain.” Cec suggested.  
“Tent.” Hugh.  
“It’s one of them modern dances, I tell ya.” Bert grumbled.  
“But their not moving, Bert.” Dot pointed out sharply.  
“Well, that’d be too easy now, would it.” The cabby argued.  
“Eiffel Tower.”  
Phryne nearly dropped Alice in her haste to spin around towards the voice coming from the door. Jack was leaning against the doorframe with an amused smirk.  
“Jack!”  
She rushed over to him, grabbing his hand.  
“Thank Heavens you’re here.”  
She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear: “I was about to run out of ideas. We’ve spend all afternoon trying to distract Dot from...,” a pained wail from the bed interrupted her, “that.”  
Jack made a sympathetic face.  
“How is she doing?” he asked quietly.  
Phryne sighed.  
“If ever I had any doubt Dot was the strongest person I know, this is certainly proof enough. It’s been going on like this for hours, Jack. The midwife’s been in three times since I arrived, but she always said she wasn’t ready yet. Apparently this is normal for a first time.” She shuddered, “I wouldn’t believe it, if Mac hadn’t said the same thing when she came by earlier.”  
“So did he get it right?” Bert asked from behind them.  
Dot had calmed down again, still panting but apparently no longer in pain. Alice shot him a punitive look anyway.  
“He did.” she said.  
“Bugger.”  
Jack raised an eyebrow. “So you spend the afternoon playing charades?” he inquired.  
“Only after we’ve thoroughly exhausted the options of Chinese whispers and Old Soldier from Botany Bay.” she replied lightly, “But you see why we need fresh eyes on the situation Jack. There’s only so many parlour games I can endure on an afternoon, even for Dot.”  
In the meantime Hugh had assured himself that Dot was alright and in good hands with Cec and Alice, and came over to the door.  
“Inspector,” he said clearly a little astonished to see his superior appear on his wife’s hospital room.  
“I hope I didn’t inconvenience you, Sir. I... I hope I didn‘t leave everyone in a lurch.” he started, but Jack waved off any apology.  
“No worries, Hugh. I think everybody understands. They all told me to wish you and Mrs Collins the best of luck.”  
The relief on Hugh’s face was palpable.  
“Thank you, Sir.”  
Jack decided it was not the day or the time to tell the younger man to call him Jack. It would only fray his nerves further and it seemed more appropriate to offer such a gesture after they had endured today’s ordeal together. It was, however, time to greet the woman at the centre of all the ruckus, so he made his way over to the bed where Dot had reclined catching her breath. Phryne and Hugh followed on his heels.  
“Inspector,” Dot managed a tired smile, “you didn’t have to come. I know you’re very busy with this case...” she began.  
“Nonsense, Mrs Collins.” Jack assured her with a smile. “You have all our support, including mine. If there’s anything I can do for you...”  
To his utter astonishment Dot laughed.  
“Thank you, Inspector, but unless you can make this baby hurry up, I don’t think there is much you can do.”  
Jack smiled a little apologetically.  
“I’m afraid that is even beyond my capabilities.” he admitted.  
“You could tell me how the case is going. Miss Phryne has only mentioned that it has to do with that man from last week, when you had me look at the shoeprint.”  
Jack nodded. “We assume it does. But I’m not sure that is a good topic of conversation for a woman in labour.” he demurred.  
Dot sighed. “I’d rather think about a murderer than about lying here for any more time with no end in sight.” she declared.  
“Dottie.” Hugh was back at his wife’s side, trying to consolidate her, “It’s really not a nice case. Do you really want our baby to come into this world while we’re talking of murderer’s and rapists?”  
“This Baby will come into the world to me cursing you and that wretched midwife to hell and back, if I don’t find anything else to think about, Hugh Collins.” Dot stated firmly, “Please Inspector. I could really do with the distraction.”  
As if to prove her point another contraction hit and her face scrunched up in agony. Jack felt Phryne’s hand in his and he instinctively squeezed it. Whether he was trying to reassure her or himself he preferred not to think about to closely. When it was over Dot fixed her eyes on the Inspector again.  
“Please.” she begged. “I’d like to think I can still do something useful other than sit here and wait.”  
There was a short, unspoken conversation between Phryne and Jack before he gave in, a few glances exchanged, a head tilt and a shrug. Jack’s eyes flickered to Alice for a moment and Phryne nodded.  
“I don’t think Alice would want to hear about it.” she told Dot gently.  
Mrs Yates raised her head at her name. With a quick look at Dot she got to her feet.  
“I’ll go and see if I can find a cuppa for us.” she offered and was out of the room before anyone could argue with her. Cec followed his wife with a proud smile.  
Bert rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m due for a puff anyway.” he muttered and followed his friends.  
Phryne smiled proudly at Jack, whose eye roll gave Bert’s a run for its money.  
“So Mrs Collins,” he started when they had the room to themselves, “how much do you know about our two victims?”

"So it’s likely Hollinghurst was a serial offender." Jack summed up.  
"It sounds like it." Phryne agreed.  
While telling Dot about the progress in their case, the two detectives had automatically fallen back into discussing the evidence. Dot smiled happily seeing ‘the bosses’ in sync, working to catch a murderer. It assured her that all was right with the world, even if it didn’t always feel like it for her at the moment.  
"It‘s very likely Joyce Reynolds child was not her husband’s after all." Phryne said.  
"That would explain the beatings." Jack mused.  
Phryne gave him a hard look.  
"Explain is not the same as excuse." she stated firmly.  
"No it isn’t" he confirmed "Which is why, as soon as we have that autopsy report from Mac, I’ll be having another chat with Mr Reynolds.”  
That statement seemed to pacify Phryne somewhat.  
"That poor girl" Dot whispered.  
Hugh took her hand gently. "She was with him for almost a year. Why wouldn’t she say anything?" he asked no one in particular, "To anyone. Elsa Greer defended herself. Dottie managed to hold John Andrews at bay. Even Alice went to Madame Breda."  
"Yes, but Dot is made of stern stuff when it comes to it, even back then." Phryne stated. "Not everyone has the presence of mind to act like that. And Joyce was young. The first time she probably didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late."  
Jack nodded seriously. "‘Unstained thoughts do seldom dream of evil.’" he quoted, underlining Phryne’s explanation.  
Over the course of his career, and of course during the war, he had seen enough abuse to know the truth in her words. Once again it hit him how young Hugh still was, how little he had seen yet. He would learn, Jack knew. Unfortunately. It really didn’t feel right that this should be the day he should learn, but then again Jack guessed that it was the day on which Hugh’s life would change irrevocably either way. He would never see the world the way he had before.  
"Precisely." Phryne agreed. "And after, what was she supposed to do. He’s her employer, the man. He probably convinced her no one would believe her, or that her husband would do something awful to her if he found out, or worst of all, that it was her own fault: That she somehow enticed him or allowed him to do it because she didn’t fight it. And the worst part is, most people would probably have agreed with him." Her mouth tightened to a thin, hard line.  
Dot shuddered. "He is burning in hell." she said with conviction.  
Dorothy Collins was a devout and faithful Catholic, she would never in her life condone a murder, but this, for her, was remarkably close.  
Another contraction hit just then, as if to punish her, at least that was what it felt like to Dot. She had long ago given up on trying to suppress the cries, especially as it only got worse and worse.  
“They are coming rather quickly now.” Phryne noted, “I’ll see that I find that midwife again to have another look. It really can’t be that long anymore.” she decided and headed to let deeds follow her words.  
When she came back with the midwife in tow she returned to an image she couldn’t even have dreamed up: Dot sat on the bed, again right in the middle of a contraction, screaming her heart out. The two men sat on both her sides, each holding one of her hands, both grimacing either in sympathy or in pain from the force with which their hands were being squashed.  
“Everybody out.” the midwife ordered unceremoniously and at least Jack couldn’t entirely hide his relieve about the order.

That way Hugh, Jack and Phryne were standing outside when, like they had planned it, everybody else came back together. It turned out Alice and Cec had found Father O’Leary and Mrs Williams on their search for tea and Bert had ran into Mac just when she had the call for Mrs Collins. The Doctor went in without much more than a nod towards Jack, a sign that she had noticed him. Five minutes later she put her head back out just to tell them the baby was on the way properly now and they couldn’t go back in. Jack sighed.  
“Can only be a matter of hours now.” he noted dryly. Phryne threw him a questioning look. “Something my grandmother used to say, when something that had already taken ages was about to come to a conclusion. Slowly.” he explained, “If I remember this part correctly it will still take a while before it’s over.”  
“You’ve been to a birth before, Jack Robinson?” Phryne asked surprised.  
He nodded. “Rosie’s sister.”  
Dot’s mother gave Hugh, who had gone white as a sheet at the Doctor’s announcement, a gentle pat on the arm.  
“He’s right, dear. We better find some seats.” she sounded perfectly calm, but neither Jack nor Phryne missed the way her fingers fiddled with the beads of the rosary wrapped around her other hand. Father O’Leary seemed to notice too, because he put a soothing hand on her shoulder.  
“She’s a strong gerl, Hester.” he said with all the authority of one who knows the will of God. “She’ll be perfectly fine.” He turned to Hugh. “How about you find a chair for yer mother-in-law so we can have a proper sit down and pray for yer wife’s health?” he ordered sternly.  
All Hugh could do was nod and when a hectic look around didn’t produce any seats Cec took pity on him and led him towards the nurses station to inquire about any seating nearby.  
“I’ll go put a call through to give the folks at home an update.” Bert stated and scuffled off as well. Alice handed out teacups to the others.  
There were more screams from inside the room and Phryne winced visibly. Hester Williams clutched at her rosary, her lips silently moving. For a moment silence descended.  
It still lasted when Bert returned. “Jane and Mr B are on their way.” he reported, “Appears they weren’t up for waitin’ by the phone.” he added catching Phryne’s worried glace up at Jack. The Inspector could only shrug.  
“You wouldn’t wait at home if you were her.” he pointed out.  
Phryne huffed, but it was clear there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Apart form that, the men were right, even if she’d never tell them. It was unfair to make Jane sit at home probably worried sick about her friend while everyone else was here. Bert distracted her from her brooding.  
“You wanna join the betting pool, Inspector.” He raised his hand defensively before Jack could even reply. “Just a little wager among friends.” he assured him.  
It wasn’t even worth an eye roll, Jack decided.  
“What are you betting on?” he asked resigned.  
“Well, you’re a bit late in the game for time, but weight and gender are still fair game.” Bert told him.  
“Have you bet on anything in your life, Jack?” Phryne asked teasingly.  
“I seem to remember a bet on the aboriginal word for possum.” he replied cheekily. Her brows rose at the memory.  
“You’re right.” she said surprised. “I forgot about that.”  
He tilted his head slightly.  
“You forgot you won a bet?” he asked sceptically and a little disappointed. In his memory her victory had led to a rather fun afternoon he had enjoyed much more than he had been willing to admit at the time.  
She shook her head.  
“I forgot it had been a bet. I definitely remember spoils.” she looked at him with a mixture of adoration and humour that made him want to kiss her senseless. He cleared his throat, which prompted a sly grin from her.  
“Good. I’d hate to think the great scenic railway fell behind your expectation.”  
She laughed quietly.  
“Not at all. In fact I was quite positively surprised.”  
Bert cleared his throat audibly.  
“So you’re in?” he asked when the two detectives turned towards him. This time Jack did roll his eyes.  
“Girl. 7.7 pounds.” he said dryly. “And I believe I won the pool for the date.” he added with a smirk.  
Phryne’s jaw dropped as she looked to Bert for confirmation. The Cabby glowered at Jack.  
„Ya have to ask Mr B’s for that, he got the takings. Since I’m apparently not trustworthy.” he muttered.  
“Ye’re not.” Cec said.  
He and Hugh returned each caring two chairs.  
“Ya lost the entire takings the last time, bettin’ on that lame nag.” he reminded his friend.  
“I got a tip, it was sure as eggs is eggs.” Bert grumbled.  
“’cept the eggs were really golf balls.” Cec commented with a grin.  
Phryne frowned. “I missed that. What did you bet on?”  
“If and when you two’d get yourselves sorted.” Bert told her.  
“I wanna see you carry money around for that long and not being allowed to touch it.” he turned to Cec.  
Phryne’s eyes narrowed.  
“Get ourselves sorted?” she asked tersely.  
Jack on the other hand didn‘t seem surprised at all.  
“Mac won that one, didn’t she?” he asked casually.  
“Some of it.” Cec confirmed.  
“You knew this?” Phryne honed in on Jack.  
“Not exactly, but the week before I left for London she was pretty mad with Bert.”  
He shrugged. “Simple deduction.”  
“I’m never leaving ever again.” she pouted. “I missed far too much.”  
Father O’Leary had taken one of the chairs from Cec and listened with increasingly dour face to the conversation.  
“Gamblin‘ is a sin.” he pointed out.  
Bert gave him a sly grin.  
“You want in father?” he offered, “Wager’s two shillings.”  
The priest gave him a withering look that didn’t impress the cabby in the slightest. He’d been to war, worked at the docks and every night he dealt with more crazy than he had ever thought possible, and that didn’t even cover working for Miss Fisher. A bristling priest didn’t even make the top ten most terrifying things he’d ever seen. Even though he knew that that particular priest had a rep for punching people he disagreed with.  
When his glare didn’t have the desired effect Father O’Leary he dropped regally onto his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest.  
“It’ll be a boy of seven pounds and two.” he declared haughtily, as if he was sharing a fundamental truth of the universe.  
Bert nodded. “Righto.” He said and made a note.

The waiting was just about as bad as Jack remembered it. Both Hugh and Mrs Williams grew more and more anxious with every passing minute and every scream coming through the closed door. Phryne grew unusually quiet, keeping her fingers interlaced with his, slightly clenching them every time her friend audibly suffered.  
She straightened up when Jane arrived with Mr Butler, putting on a brave face for her daughter and pushing her own worries down.  
It was nearly midnight when Dot gave a final scream loud enough to shatter windows, followed shortly after by a high pitched wail.  
“Thank the Lord.” Mrs Williams and Father O’Leary exhaled simultaneously. It still took ten more minutes of bated breathes until Mac opened the door. She looked tired but smiled.  
“You’re father of a healthy girl of seven pounds and five, Hugh. And Dot is doing fine, too.” she announced.  
Hugh looked at her like he hadn’t understood a word she had just said, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Jack genially patted his back.  
“Congratulations, Hugh.” he said sincerely.  
The younger man turned to him, still utterly dumbfounded.  
“Congrats, mate.” Bert nodded.  
Suddenly he was surrounded by the whole little group congratulating him, shaking hands, patting each other’s backs and hugging. Mr Butler sincerely shook Mrs Williams’ hand, Jane threw herself around Mac’s neck and Jack kissed Phryne, for once not caring in the least who might be watching. But only when Father O’Leary took his hand and, as kindly as he was able to, said “Congratulations son,” only then reality began to take root in Hugh’s head and the smile that broke out on his face was blinding.  
“Maybe you want to take him inside.” Mac suggested to Dot’s mother with a nod to her son-in-law. The older woman nodded, equally unable to wipe the bright smile off her face and pulled Hugh into the room.  
“Everyone else will have to wait until tomorrow.” Mac announced.  
General protest ended quickly when Mr Butler announced that food and Champaign were waiting at Wardlow to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how commonly known Old Soldier from Botany Bay is, but apparently it’s a nursery rhyme/children’s game similar to I packed my bag.  
> With “Unstained thoughts…” Jack quotes Shakespeare’s Rape of Lucrece line 86 in the New Cambridge Edition by John Roe of 2006. Because clearly the world will end in flames if I don’t put at least one Shakespeare reference into my multi chapter fics ;-)


	13. The Violent Fires

“Her death is definitely connected to her loosing her child, but it wasn’t the midwife that killed her. Unfortunately the reason she lost the baby is also the reason for her death:" Mac frowned deeply, "Blunt force trauma to the lower abdomen." she declared stone-faced, “It ruptured her liver which led to internal bleeding, which killed her. And I would agree with Patty Forbes that she was kicked. There are highly indicative bruises. I had it photographed and there are detailed descriptions in the report."  
Mac pointed at the file on Jack’s desk. The Inspector couldn’t remember ever having seen her so furious. It was slightly terrifying.  
"I would hazard a guess the cuts were inflicted to disguise the true cause of death." she continued. "Poorly if I may add, no one but Finley would have fallen for it. Like I said before, they are too superficial to have caused any serious damage, occurred post mortem and were probably made using a kitchen knife." She took a deep breath as if she had been talking for an hour rather than two minutes. "Please tell me you can get the bastard that did this to her."  
Jack struggled. He wanted to tell Mac that he would, that that animal wouldn’t be walking the streets for long anymore, but he knew too well how difficult abuse cases were to prove, even if the victim was dead. Besides it wasn’t technically his case. A look at Mac’s face told him however, that pointing this out was probably not a good idea.  
"Can you tell anything about the perpetrator from the body?" he asked instead, "Anything we can use as evidence?"  
Mac sighed deeply. "No." she admitted, "The bruises are very telling but they don’t give you a footprint. They also indicate that she was in a horizontal position, probably lying on the floor, when she was kicked, so there’s no telling about his height and any other evidence that was there Finley has thoroughly cleaned out. Damn." she swore passionately.  
Of course she knew as well as Jack about the difficulties in these kinds of cases. Joyce Reynolds had never pressed charges against her husband before which was no surprise either.  
"Maybe he recorded his findings." Jack offered, trying to sound more hopeful than he was. "Otherwise I’ll have to try and get a confession out of Reynolds. After your examination he can hardly keep pushing the blame on Mrs Forbes and the only other man in her life we know of was Hollinghurst and he was already dying at the time."  
Mac nodded slowly. It wasn’t much, but they both knew it was probably the best they could hope for and despite herself she trusted that if anyone could make the husband talk it would be Jack. Jack or Phryne.  
"Will you tell Phryne?" she asked, "About all of it?" she couldn’t help adding.  
Jack held her eyes. For a long moment they silently shared their concerns for the person they both cared most about. If pressed both would have insisted that Phryne was strong and could handle anything live threw at her but they would have both agreed that there were instances where she wouldn’t have to if they had anything to do with it.  
"She’ll ask." he pointed out, "She was there for Mrs Forbes interview and she knows you’ve done a second autopsy. If… when she asks I won’t lie to her." he stated, "But I hope that won’t be until after the interview."  
Mac couldn’t help a wicked grin spreading over her face. That man was a gift.  
"She’s gonna be furious." she noted.  
Jack tilted his head in agreement. "Probably."  
"Sure you can handle it?" the doctor asked teasingly.  
"I’ll live." he replied dryly.  
Mac raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"  
She didn’t really expect an answer, so she got up.  
"If you can’t get him to talk, I could assist." she offered wryly. "I have a set of very sharp scalpels and I know how to use them."  
A smirk tugged on the corner of Jack’s mouth. "I’ll keep that in mind." he promised.  
“And if Phryne gives you a hard time, send her my way.” the Doctor offered, serious this time.  
Jack gave her a quick, almost imperceptible nod, although both of them knew he wouldn’t. Phryne wasn’t the only one who insisted in fighting her own battles. None the less he appreciated the sentiment.  
“Have you seen Dot, yet?” the doctor asked just as Jack was about to leave the morgue.  
“Not yet.” he admitted, “I thought it might be a little early. She had quite the night after all.”  
“She has a newborn now, she’ll have to get used to being woken at all times of day and night.” Mac commented dryly, “She was awake when I saw to her an hour ago.”  
“How is she?” Jack asked.  
“She‘ll be fine.” Mac assured him, “There was a bit of tearing and she lost some blood so she’ll probably be a little pale around the nose. Nothing dramatic.” she added when she saw the blood drain from the Inspectors face.  
“We’ll keep her in a couple of days, hopefully there won’t be any infection and to make sure she stays in bed, where she belongs. But if all goes well she’ll be home and right as rain in no time.”

Jack would have preferred to see Dot and her newborn baby with Phryne by his side. As much as he like the Collinses and considered them friends it still felt a little odd to regard them as family members for him. Especially in personal matters like this, he still felt like an intruder. He would have felt less so coming as a part of Phryne’s entourage. But Phryne was still sleeping and he knew both Collinses would be hurt if he didn‘t show, even if they would never say a word. And knowing his job, there was no telling when he would have time later. Besides this was probably the most pleasant duty he would have to perform all day. So he took a deep calming breath and carefully knocked at the door he had spent hours waiting in front of last night.  
The room looked different by daylight, he found, more inviting. But maybe it was just the fact that the image presenting itself now was much more comforting than the barely veiled anxiety from last night.  
Mrs Collins sat in her bed propped up on several pillows. She was dressed in one of her usual cardigans, neatly buttoned up over, what Jack could only guess, was a nightgown. Her hair, while far from her usual updo, had been brushed and carefully braided. She had clearly made herself presentable in the expectation of visitors. Mac had been right, she was a little pale and dark rings under her eyes hinted that she hadn’t slept as much as she should have after last nights labour. But she smiled sweetly when she spotted him by the door.  
“Good morning, Inspector.” she greeted him happily.  
Of the two other people in the room only Jane, who was sat next to Dot on the bed, turned to greet him and grinned up at him. Hugh, who was sat on a chair next to the bed, was fast asleep, snoring gently.  
Make that three people, Jack added mentally, noticing the tiny bundle Jane was carefully cradling in her arms.  
“Good morning Mrs Collins. How are you?” he returned Dot’s greeting. She laughed quietly and more content than he had ever seen her.  
“A little sore and a little tired,” she admitted, “but very happy.”  
She threw a loving glace at the baby in Jane’s arms.  
“And how is the youngest member of the Collins family?” Jack inquired unable to hide a smirk.  
Dot smiled widely.  
“Let me introduce you, Inspector.” she said, taking the bundle from Jane and turning it so Jack could see the baby inside, thankfully as fast asleep as her father.  
“Inspector Robinson, please meet my daughter, Mary Agnes Collins.” Dot presented her baby proudly.  
“It is an honour to meet you Miss Collins.” Jack replied formally, having to smile warmly at the sleeping infant.  
She looked well, all in all, he thought. Generally Jack was neither particularly enthralled nor repulsed by babies. This one was clearly healthy, with a rosy, chubby face and a light patch of hair on top of her head. His eyes fell on Jane’s face, who was staring at the small human, eyes wide with wonder.  
“She’s so tiny.” she said, Jack assumed not for the first time this morning.  
“I think she was rather big enough.” Dot commented with a chuckle, but the Inspector didn’t miss her wince for a second. The expression passed as fast as it had come and Dot turned back to her latest visitor.  
“Would you like to hold her Inspector?” she asked gently.  
Jack was taken aback. This wasn’t an offer he had anticipated.  
“Um, I don’t know, Mrs Collins.” he stuttered slightly thrown.  
“No worries, Inspector. I’m sure you won’t drop her.” Dot laughed quietly, handing the bundle carefully back to Jane.  
“Here, Jane will give her to you.”  
The girl took the baby in her arms expertly and deposited her in Jack’s hands as if she had never done anything else in her life. A part of him suspected she had been badgering the nurses all morning to show her exactly how. The major part of his brain, however, was occupied with the sudden sensation of weight on his palms, which were now full of baby. Jane had placed the bundle in his open hands which were easily large enough to hold every inch on the tiny human. Even so he was probably holding her all wrong and he half subconsciously took a step closer to the bed, just in case he did drop her after all.  
“Just make sure you support the head.” Jane instructed him, adjusting his fingers underneath the small body. The little girl gurgled a little at the movement and moments later her lids fluttered open and huge blue eyes bore into Jack’s.  
Usually Jack found people’s tendencies to attribute an infant with a likeness to their parents rather preposterous and normally he failed to see any. The eyes currently staring up at him, however, were exactly the same big puppy eyes that were watching him everyday at the station. Hugh would never be able to deny that he was the girl’s father.  
It only lasted a moment though. Then the child scrunched up her face, her eyes squeezing shut and she let out a deafening wail.  
Hugh was started awake with a yelp, nearly falling off his chair.  
“Dottie?” he murmured, blurry eyed attempting to take in the scene before him.  
“Inspector?” he asked incredulously as soon as his eyes focused somewhat.  
“Good morning, Hugh.” Jack replied dryly, while handling the screaming infant back to her mother who was already making soothing sounds to calm her daughter.  
“I think she might need feeding.” she said sheepishly after a moment, blushing slightly.  
Jack had suspected something along those lines and was rather glad to be given a pretext to leave.  
“I’m afraid I have to head to the station anyway.” he announced immediately.  
Hugh scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, Sir.” she sputtered, “I was here all night and I must have fallen asleep... I’ll be there in no time.”  
“Don’t be absurd Collins.” Jack interrupted his stumbling, “You’re not expected at work today. Take care of your wife and daughter and I’ll see you back there tomorrow.” he told his Senior Constable, “But maybe Jane would accompany me outside.” he suggested before Hugh could even thank him.  
The girl rolled her eyes but got up from her perch on the bed.  
“I’ll come back, when you’re done feeding her.” she promised and took Jack’s offered arm.  
“You know, I wanted to watch.” she told him as she followed him outside. “Baby’s are very fascinating.”  
“I’m sure.” he grinned, “You should still give Mrs Collins a modicum of privacy. At least the first week or so, before you harangue her with your scientific curiosity.”  
Jane gave him a nudge with her elbow.  
“I’m not haranguing her.” she demurred.  
Jack just gave her a look that gained him another elbow.  
“Make sure Phryne shows up here. She doesn’t like babies, but if she bails out Dot will be hurt.” she told him.  
He nodded. “She’ll come.” he promised, even though he knew when she would it wouldn’t be anything to do with him. Phryne would come because she knew Dot wanted her there as well as Jane did. The girl seemed satisfied with his answer and released him to his car once they reached the hospital entrance. As he got in, his thoughts returned from the scene of domestic bliss he had just witnessed to the body in the morgue and Mac’s report on Joyce Reynolds. He grid his teeth and hit the accelerator. He had to interview a wife beater.

Jack returned to the station in a dangerous mood. Having given Hugh the day off, it was Foster who was manning the front desk and who was the first one to meet the steely determination and anger radiating from the Inspector.  
“Get me Reynolds in the interview room. Now.” he ordered before the station door had time to close behind him, “I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing, get him here. And when you have him here, search his house and bring me the kitchen knives.”  
With that he stalked into his office where he perused the file on Joyce Reynolds again to see what Dr Finley had recorded as evidence from the body, other than the none-existent autopsy. The result had him sigh relieved.

The second time Leo Reynolds entered City south he seemed to be standing a little taller than the last time. At his first interview he had been grief stricken, mourning and a little dishevelled. Now he seemed less lost, on the contrary, he was less than pleased to be summoned and picked up from his work as a chimneysweep.  
“I know I won’t be feedin‘ a family no more, but I need to pay for me Joyce’s funeral, Inspector.” he remarked sharply, “An’I don’t have that kinda money just lying around. Is this about the dead toff, again?”  
“No, Mr Reynolds, it’s about your wife.” Jack replied calmly. He applied the tried and tested method of schooling his face to a perfectly emotionless mask. It wouldn‘t help him to show his disgust for the man, not yet, so he kept his face placid and his voice detached.  
“We figured out who killed her.” he told Reynolds. The man leaned forward a little.  
“You arrest the bitch?” he asked eagerly. Jack fought the urge to lean back, away from him.  
“No, Mrs Forbes has been cleared of suspicion. As it turns out your wife did not die of a botched abortion after all.” Jack made a deliberate pause to watch Reynolds carefully.  
“Why did you beat her that time?” he asked almost casually. Mr Reynolds eyes narrowed to thin slits.  
“Not a thing you can prove copper.” he snarled.  
Jack tilted his head lightly, a gesture that someone who knew him would have identified as a challenge. “Actually, we can.” he disagreed, pulling a page out of Dr Finley’s report.  
“The coroner in Richmond may not be God’s gift to medicine, but it turns out he is very thorough in securing evidence: He found smudges on the inner thigh of your wife’s stockings. Soot, left there when you pulled her legs apart so you could attack her with the knife.” He waited for a moment for his words to sink in, satisfied that the blood visibly drained from the murderer’s face.  
“Did you find out the child wasn’t yours?”  
Reynolds hissed like an injured cat. “She’s tryinna foist that brat on me she ‘ad that posh bastard pu’ in ‘er.” he spat, “Cuz, o’course ‘e didn’t want nothing to do wi’ it. So she’s leadin’ me on instead. An’ fuckin’ the bastard weren’t makin’ enough of a fool o’me.”  
“We have reason to believe Hollinghurst forced himself on your wife.” Jack ground out in a low voice.  
“Forced me arse.” Reynolds sneered. He was on a roll now and seemed to have decided not to hold anything back, “Like this didn’t go on for months. Never said a word, went to his place everyday ‘appy as Larry. Only when the critter was getting’ on its way she’s getting’ the jitters an’ came clean.”  
“So you beat her until she lost the child and died.” Jack concluded flatly.  
“She got what was coming to her. Harlot didn’t deserve better.” Reynolds decreed disdainfully.  
Without a further word Jack got up and turned towards Constable Foster who had been guarding the door and wore an expression of muted outrage. “Constable please take Mr Reynolds down to the cells.” he ordered, “Leo Reynolds you’re under arrest for the murder of Joyce Reynolds and her unborn child.” he intoned without sparing the man another look.

Phryne breezed into his office about fifteen minutes after Reynolds’ arrest.  
“So did Mac finish the autopsy of Joyce Reynolds?” she asked immediately.  
She had brought lunch. Jack eyed the hamper a little wistful. He had no illusion that he would get to see the content any time soon if the conversation proceeded where he had no doubt it would lead.  
“She did.” he replied as none-committal as he could.  
“And?” she probed, clearly surprised by his reluctance to share the details straight away.  
“Nothing that would help with our case. She could clear Mrs Forbes.” Phryne’s face darkened. “She confirmed her suspicion.” she guessed.  
Jack nodded curtly.  
“So when are you arresting Leo Reynolds? I suppose you’re not leaving the Richmond boys to do it.” she asked lightly.  
Jack took a deep breath bracing himself. “I arrested Mr Reynolds this morning.” he told her.  
She stiffened visibly, as she processed the information. “I see.” she said, “Was the evidence conclusive?”  
“No. He confessed.”  
“I see.” she repeated.  
Jack felt an overwhelming need to say something to release the tension he could feel building. “Phryne...”  
“No, I understand. A clear case, no need for my help. You’re perfectly capable of getting a confession without me, after all.” she said almost pleasantly, if not for the icy tone underneath the sweetness of her voice.  
“I am actually.” he replied a little more tersely than he had intended. The implications of her words did not sit well at all with him.  
“Of course you are. And why would I care seeing a case I’ve been involved with through to the end?” The pleasant tone was fading fast from her voice, making room for biting sarcasm.  
“It wasn’t even our case.” he tried to placate her, “The situation was clear, there was no need for you to get involved. There was no need for you to sit in and face this... man.” he spat the last word so it was clear only his sense of propriety kept him from using a far more rude word. None of it had the effect he was hoping for. Her eyebrows rose.  
“So that’s it, you think I couldn’t have handled it?” she inquired icily. She had been surprised and a little hurt by the news that he had gone ahead and solved that case without her. She might have been willing to admit, under sufficient torture of course, that she might have reacted a little strongly to it. But his words now wrapped around her heart like ice.  
“We become engaged and now I’m the little missus who can’t stand on her own two feet anymore?”  
He rolled his eyes at her allegation. “That’s not what I said and you know that’s not what I think. I said there was no need. This case is already chaffing you more than enough, you don’t have to get involved with every ugly aspect of my work on top of it.”  
“I can handle myself, Jack." Phryne declared defiantly.  
Jack groaned. “I know that Phryne. That’s not the point.”  
“Then what exactly was the point of you lying to me, Jack?” Her question could have frozen over the ocean.  
“I didn’t invite you join me, I didn’t lie to you.” he defended himself.  
“You were deliberately keeping things from me, how is that different?” she spat. He had to bite back a comment on just how little of a standing she had on the matter of withholding information.  
“I don’t invite you to any of my investigations.” he pointed out instead.  
“No you don’t.” she agreed coldly, “Maybe you should.”  
“No need, you show up to half of them anyways.” he retorted. This really was getting ridiculous. Next thing she was going to accuse him of patronising her for holding a door open for her.  
“Which hasn’t hurt your clear-up rate, if you noticed, Inspector.” She managed to imbue his title with so much distain her aunt would have been proud of her.  
“I never denied that!” he cried.  
“Then why are you suddenly pushing me out?” she yelled.  
Jack held her eyes flaming with rage for a moment. She hardly seemed to recognise him. For so long now she had felt secure in her standing with Jack. He had always respected her opinion and her abilities, and not treated her differently because she was a woman. She loved him for that. It had been years since he had tried to push her out of an investigation. She suddenly felt like the ground had been pulled from underneath her. How could he do that to her?  
“Reynolds is a despicable piece of filth and I didn’t want you near him.” he replied honestly, “I didn’t want you to have to listen to all the disdainful things he said about his wife, a woman he had killed because she dared to get raped by another man.”  
“I don’t need you to protect me!” she snapped.  
“And I don’t need you to help me do my job. That doesn’t mean you’ll ever stop!”  
He was yelling, too by now. Phryne looked at him like he had slapped her. She had always suspected it, hadn’t she? Everything else was simply too good to be true. A man who met a woman on equal ground, something like that just didn’t exist. But yet again she had herself be blinded like a fool, given her heart to a man and now she was supposed to pay the price for it.  
“So you do what me to stop. Stay home nice and safe and be a good little wife.” she hissed. “That’s not what I said!” he exclaimed in frustration. He felt like she was wilfully misconstruing everything he said and it hit him in places he didn’t like to think about. Memories he had bid a sound farewell in a courtroom on one of the worst days he had had seen since the war.  
Before Phryne could reply they were interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door. Constable Foster carefully peeked into the office.  
“Er, Dr MacMillan is here for you, Sir.” he stuttered, “And I brought the evidence you asked for.” He placed a kitchen towel full of knives on the desk and bolted out of the office as quickly as he could without breaking into running.  
“Ah, those for me?” Mac strolled into the office, pretending to be completely oblivious to the tension in the air. Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. He hadn’t even realised when he had gotten up from his chair.  
“Yes. Those are the knives from the Reynolds kitchen. It would help if you could confirm that one of them was used to mutilate her. Mr Reynolds confessed, but any additional evidence will help.” he said sounding a little more rough than was normal.  
“He confessed?” Mac confirmed with a sound of deep satisfaction. “My, my, you are good. Well done.” she praised.  
Phryne’s mouth opened. “You were in on this?” she asked, taken aback.  
“Did I know about the results of the autopsy I performed?” Mac asked sarcastically without looking at her friend as she inspected the knives carefully. “It’s distinctly possible.”  
“The not telling me part?” Phryne specified icily.  
Mac was still intently focused on the knives. “I might have suggested it.” she said calmly. “What?” Phryne’s jaw dropped.  
“Mac, that’s not...” Jack tried to keep her from getting involved, but she brushed him off.  
“It is. She needs to know you’re not the only one who wants to protect her.” The doctor stated.  
“I don’t need protection.” Phryne ground out.  
“Try and stop us.” Mac shot back without even batting an eyelash at her friend’s outrage. She turned back to the Inspector lifting one of the knives. “Now, this one has the right kind of blade and if I’m not entirely mistaken these stains on the handle could be blood. I’d like to take it to testing, if you’re alright with that.” she said conversationally.  
Jack nodded mutely. Mac pocketed the knife with a satisfied grin.  
“I’ll let you know as soon as I have any results.” she promised and turned to leave. “Try leaving him in one piece, we might still need him.” she told Phryne in passing.

When the door shut behind her a heavy silence descended onto the office. Jack was watching Phryne carefully. She was still angry, he could see that, but she didn’t seem to want to continue yelling at him. In his mind he tried to recall just what he had said in their fight and winced internally at how some things had come out.  
“I would never want you to stop.” he said after a moment, “You’re too good at it.”  
“Just not good enough to be invited to your cases.” she replied, but there was no more heat in it, only the faint sound of defeat, which hurt probably more than her anger had.  
“Phryne, if I had my way you’d be my partner in all my cases, you know that.”  
“You don’t want me in this one.” she pointed out.  
“No I don’t.” he admitted without hesitation. “This case, it’s weighing on you and I don’t say that to belittle you. No one could say you’re weak for it, a case like this would weigh on seasoned officers, for someone with your history to be faced with it...” he trailed of, “I don’t want you on this case, because I don’t want to be on this case. But I don’t have a choice, you do.” Her look was one that told him just how much she thought of his assessment of her situation.  
“I don’t need you to protect me.” she repeated.  
“Heavens Phryne, of course I’ll try to protect you.” he exclaimed exasperated, “I love you.”  
She gave him a long look. “Find another way to show me.” she said and swept out of the office. She left the picnic hamper on the chair.  
Jack fell back down in his chair. Any appetite he might have had, had evaporated.  
She had told him once that to her the words ‘I love you’ where just that, words. They meant nothing unless the person you said them to already knew the truth of them. She had spent a lot of time with her parents then, watching how her father used those empty words to make her mother forgive him for everything he had put her through. ‘I love you’ she had told him, was a sentence that should be earned. She had always been a woman who thought actions spoke louder than words. And apparently his actions spoke in a way that did not grant him the privilege to say those words to her right now. He clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. Was this, this silly, stupid incident, this vile excuse for a human being really all it took for him to loose her trust?


	14. Altered by the Flames

Phryne had driven to Brighton and back three times, breaking ever speed limit she encountered, before she felt calm enough to return home. She wasn’t sure if Jane was home but she was in no mood to talk to anyone right now, so she didn’t want to take the risk. As soon as she arrived home she ordered a hot bath with a stiff drink and not to be disturbed unless the house was on fire. As she ascended the stairs the adrenaline of the fight and her rather spirited ride slowly left her. Suddenly she felt very week and cold. Once the bath was ready and Mr Butler had quietly withdrawn, she climbed into the tub and let her head sink under the water. The world turned quiet and warm.  
She knew she had a few hours before Jack would come home from work. Even after their fight he would have to stay and finish his day. It was probably better this way. They were both too wound up right now, too set in their own respective mindsets. She was still furious and hurt but she also couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she had not been entirely fair to him. The fact that Mac had taken his side without hesitation was an indicator for that. In that moment it had felt like a blow to the stomach. That Mac of all people would abandon, no, betray her like that, siding with a man of all people, had hurt her more than she could have put in words. Mac was the one person in the world she trusted more than anyone. Mac, her oldest and closest friend, the only person who knew everything about her, every sordid tale, every childhood nightmare and every scar.  
The only person, except Jack.  
If she had been asked a week ago who of the two she trusted more, she would have been hard pressed to make a decision, if she was perfectly honest with herself. And now it seemed both of them had turned on her. But what had hurt her earlier, gave her pause now that she was allowing herself to think about it. She attempted to approach this whole mess logically, from the outside as if it was a case and not her life. It was possible she had been mistaken in one of them, but both? No. If Mac had sided with Jack, that meant she thought he had a point, which allowed for the teeniest tiniest possibility that she, Phryne, had maybe, potentially, not been entirely right.  
Her head broke through the surface and she gulped in air with greedy breaths.  
Was it possible she had done Jack wrong? She had considered that she might have been overreacting a little but his reaction had only confirmed her fears. He had purposefully kept her out of the know because he had felt she couldn’t cope. Because he thought her too weak to deal with someone like Reynolds. And he had said he wanted her to stop working. He had retracted that statement a moment later, but he had said it, hadn’t he? I don’t need your help, but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop. That sentence had frozen the blood in her very veins. Even at the thought of it she shuddered. She knew too many women who had been forced by men to give up on their work, their dreams and joys. She had been such a woman once. Another man’s voice roared through her memories. I told you: No more. You are mine and mine alone. Involuntarily she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself, making her self as small as possible. Protecting the vital organs, the part of her that had been a nurse supplied unbidden. She had always been sure Jack would never treat her like that, never claim her, never chain her. He had promised her more than once he would never ask her to change and he hadn’t. He had never asked for it. But that didn‘t mean he hadn’t wished for it. She knew he had. He had wished for her to stop seeing other men, and he frequently wished for her to take viewer risks in her work. He never asked for it, but he wished, she knew that. And sometimes she complied with his unspoken wishes. He had never asked her to change, yet she had. Did he wish for her to stop working altogether? To be a conventional woman who stayed at home to wait for him with his dinner ready? She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe they could have been so wrong about each other. Jack knew who she was, would he have fallen in love with her if he wished her to give that up? And for all that had happened she couldn’t bring herself to doubt that he did indeed love her. She forced herself to take that damning sentence out again and analyse it from all different angles. Pretend it’s a witness statement, a clue, a piece of evidence, she told herself.  
I don’t need your help but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop. For one thing it was objectively true. Jack was a capable detective, he didn’t need her help. Her help got his cases solved easier, quicker and, in her opinion, in much more fun ways, but he was perfectly able to do his job without her help. She knew that and it didn’t stop her, mostly because that wasn’t the point. But maybe it was. She tried to recall the context in which he had said it. Context could be everything sometimes.  
I don’t need you to protect me. That’s what she had said before. This had been his reply. She let out a deep sigh, almost a sob. Suddenly the argument was achingly familiar. They had had it before and, if they could resolve it this time, they would have it again. His urge to try and protect her versus her insistence she didn’t need to be protected. The argument that would never be settled between them because they were both equally right and wrong. He knew he worried too much and didn’t always give her the credit she deserved in the moment, but would rather have a million rows over it with her than not be there to safe her the one time she might need it. She in turn knew she overreacted to his attempts at heroism and that she needed them more often than she would ever admit, but knew from experience that it was a thin line between protection and control, between worrying and patronising.  
But she had never reacted quite like that. Never so violently and never so terrified. Jack wasn’t DuBois, he wasn’t her father and she knew that. He was as unlike them as was humanly possible. She knew that but it seemed for the duration of their fight she had forgotten it. And that shocked her to the core.

Phryne had not intended to go and see the Collins baby in a state of emotional turmoil. But then she hadn’t intended to go alone either. Without thinking about it, she had simply assumed she would be going with Jack by her side. She did most things with Jack by her side these days, she realised and the knot in her chest tightened a little more. In this case it was only reasonable though, she argued with no one but herself. Jack would have kept the infant occupied while she could talk to Dot. She was fairly sure he was better with babies than her. Not that that was a great achievement. But he wasn’t here now and Dot would have been terribly insulted if she didn’t show up. Besides it was still hours before Jack’s shift ended and sitting at home her thoughts only circled around their fight until she felt herself drowning. She needed a distraction at least for a while. Apparently she rather did do children than sit around sulking.  
So Phryne steeled herself and plastered her brightest smile on her face before entering the hospital room.  
It was very much as she had feared inside. The room was filled with screams that were far too loud considering the size of the lungs that produced them. To Phryne’s mild surprise it was Cec, who was rocking the crying child in his arms, walking around the room, cooing softly and completely ignoring the flood of advice on what to do, coming from Dot and Alice. The two women quieted when they noticed Miss Fisher in the door, which contributed next to nothing to the overall noise level.  
Dot beamed at the sight of her mistress, despite the fact that she looked ready to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.  
“Miss!” she exclaimed happily.  
“Dot,” Phryne fixed her smile firmly on her face, determined not to let her friend see anything but happiness for her sake, “how are you feeling, old thing?”  
Mrs Collins just smiled a little brighter. “I’m so glad you came, Miss.” she admitted, “I’m a little tired, but very well otherwise.”  
“You look like you haven’t slept in days, Dot.” Phryne confirmed, “Where is Hugh? Surely he could watch over your little girl while you get some rest.”  
“I sent him home a while ago, Miss. He’s been here all night and wouldn’t leave, even when he kept falling asleep in his chair. The Inspector has given him the day off, but he’ll have to be back at the station tomorrow, so I thought he should get some rest as well. And Mary only woke up twenty minutes ago.”  
“She’s been screaming like this for twenty minutes?” Phryne exclaimed in horror.  
“We can’t seem to work out what she wants.” Cec confirmed, sounding a little concerned. He handed the baby back to Dot.  
“Maybe we should take her for a walk for a bit.” Alice suggested.  
“Good idea.” Phryne decided instantly, “See if you can find Doctor Mac, maybe she knows what to do.” she added. And if she doesn’t at least she’ll be stuck with a wailing infant, she thought, serves her right.  
“Will you at least take a look at her, Miss?” Dot asked, a strange pleading tone in her voice and Phryne realised she hadn’t actually laid eyes on the crying menace yet. The look on Dot’s face left her no choice in the matter.  
“Of course I will, Dot,” she said tenderly, “that’s what I came here for after all.”  
She reached out a gloved hand to peel back the blanket wrapped around the little body to take a look. Her first impression was less than favourable. The little girl was bright red, crumpled and panting with the exhaustion of her tantrum. But when she pulled back the blanket, Phryne brushed her finger against the baby’s cheek and Mary stopped crying as if she had been surprised by the unfamiliar contact. She opened her eyes and looked at Phryne. Her huge blue eyes held the older woman’s and for a moment Phryne felt unexpectedly at peace. The child’s look penetrated her as if she could see through her, understand everything about her and, strangest of all sensations, absolved her.  
Phryne shook her head as if to clear herself of such a ridiculous notion, but couldn’t look away.  
“She really is quite lovely, Dot.” she said, sounding a little rougher than she would have liked.  
The sound of her voice seemed to break the spell and Mary started crying again. This time Alice took her, and she and Cec took the little girl from the room. Dot’s eyes followed them until the door closed behind them. Only then did she turn back to Phryne.  
“I’m so glad you came, Miss.” she repeated, “I know you and the Inspector are working on this nasty case and...”  
“And that should really be the last thing on your mind in a time like this, Dot.” Phryne interrupted her, “Of course I came. I would have brought Jack, but...”  
This time it was Dot who interrupted her mistress: “The Inspector was here this morning,” she said, “I didn’t expect him back. I don’t think he’s very fond of babies.” she chuckled lightly, “You’re probably happy to hear that, Miss.”  
Phryne forced herself to smile at Dot’s words. Of course Jack had been here. Another honourable thing he had done early in the morning without her. She bit her lip as the knot in her chest reminded her of its presence. Despite her best efforts Dot instantly noticed something was bothering her friend and employer.  
“Is everything alright, Miss?” she asked tentatively.  
Phryne shook her head clear for the second time within a few minutes.  
“Yes, of course, Dot.” she replied lightly, “The Inspector and I had a slight disagreement. Nothing to worry about.”  
She pressed a kiss at her companion’s forehead as she hadn’t done in a long time, leaving a bright red lipstick print.  
“I should let you get some rest while you have the chance.” she said. “I’ll come by again tomorrow.”  
When she stepped into the corridor she considered that she should probably look for Mac before returning home. They had to talk about a few things.

She was waiting for him in the parlour when he came home. Jack had been unsure if the better choice would be to leave the station early or late. In the end he had settled on the first option, because he couldn’t concentrate in any case. Not that there was much left to concentrate on. But he had recognised the avoidance tactic from his marriage and had chosen not to repeat that mistake. If there was more of a confrontation to come they would have to have it out but maybe they could work through it before dinner. Or at least before bed.  
When he saw her sitting on the chaise in the parlour a part of him wanted to flee. She was staring into the fire with an unusually empty expression on her face and although he couldn’t be sure in the light of the flames, she looked pale. He noted she had forgone her war paint, as he sometimes thought of it; her face was bare which made his heard clench. Phryne Fisher without make up was a sight one normally only saw very early in the morning or late at night and he wasn’t sure what to think of her state of undress before dinner.  
“Phryne?”  
He carefully stepped inside, closing the doors behind him. She looked up, but her expression didn’t change.  
“Hello, Jack.”  
Somehow it was impossible for him to gauge her mood from the utterance. She sounded distant, but not as cold and angry as she had earlier  
Jack decided to jump in. More than anything he wanted this fight over. He hated the fact that someone as despicable as Reynolds had managed to come between them and he was just about ready to do whatever it took to remedy that.  
“I wanted to spare you more heartache.” he said without preamble, still standing by the door, “It might have been stupid and I know you don’t need my protection, but you know that I’ll always want to protect you. It’s never about me thinking you’re not capable. You are more capable, more self sufficient than most of my Constables. But you never back down, Phryne. You take things to heart. It‘s what makes you the wonderful, caring person I love and it makes you such a damned good detective.”  
Her eyes flickered to meet his, but only for a second before she looked away again. He ploughed on.  
“Whatever I said this morning, or whatever you thought I said, I wouldn’t want you any other way. But sometimes you take on more than any one person should or could, Phryne. All I’m asking is that you allow me to help you carry those burdens you load on yourself, the same as you help me carry mine. I admit I might not have gone about it the ideal way, but my intentions were the best.”  
Phryne huffed.  
“Dot would tell you that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” she muttered, still avoiding to look at him.  
“She would have a point.” he conceded only half joking.  
She ignored it.  
“You were pushing me out Jack,” she said trying very hard not to let her emotions echo in her voice, “and it felt like all my worst fears had come to live. I trust you, Jack. I have allowed myself to trust you, not just with my body, but with my heart and my happiness and then you...” she broke of and took a few deep breaths.  
“Maybe you’re right, maybe this case is getting to me,” she admitted when she felt she could trust her voice again, “but you pushed me out, ‘for my own good’ and I felt like I could see you turn into DuBois, or my father in front of my eyes.”  
She got to the end of the sentence without faltering. She firmly fixed her eyes on his, willing him to understand. They were wide and shimmering, but she pressed her lips together and refused to let the tears fall.  
Jack looked at her with an expression of utter horror on his face. It was an expression she had seen flash over his stoic features few times, usually, when she had gotten herself in another tight spot. It would flicker up for a fraction of a moment before he would either spring into action to safe her or school his face back to neutrality and helped her to safe herself. Those moments were always so short she never had the time to take it fully in. She’d notice the widening of his eyes, the hollowing of his cheeks or the fluttering of his nostrils, but never all at once. Now she did. Now that expression was frozen on his face.  
Jack couldn’t move. Her words echoed through his mind with the volume and intensity of church bells, fixing him motionless in his place, as if every movement would increase the pain. Suddenly it all made sense. Her violent reaction, her coldness, everything. She had thought he wanted to entrap her and had fought nail and teeth against those imagined chains. She had felt betrayed. The fear and hurt she must have gone through nearly knocked the air out of him.  
“Phryne,” he croaked, “oh God, Phryne, I’m so sorry, I never meant...”  
“I know, Jack, I know.” she interrupted him.  
Despite her best efforts the tears started spilling from her eyes. She wished he would move, come to her, move away, anything.  
“I know.” she repeated, “I know you’re not like them. Never. I don’t know what came over me. You’re nothing like them. I’m sorry.”  
The sight of her tears was what finally freed Jack from his shocked paralysis. Within the blink of an eye he was by her side, taking her in his arms. He held her gently but securely, allowing her to wrap he arms around his neck and hold onto him. Jack couldn’t remember ever truly hating a person before but he truly hated DuBois, and he was heartedly glad Henry Fisher was far out of the country. He would have liked to do unspeakable things to both men, and the fact that one of them was already dead did not help to sooth the anger that they could make the bravest, strongest, most magnificent woman he knew break down in tears even so many years later. But he knew it wouldn’t have done her any good either, so he did the only thing he could do; hold her and be there for her, hopefully the man she needed, at least the best man he could be for her.  
“I’m so sorry, Phryne.” he mumbled into her hair.  
Once the dam was broken there was nothing she could do to keep the tears from coming and coming and when Jack took her in his arms she stopped trying. She clung to him and let her body shake with her sobs. It was ironic that she had compared Jack’s behaviour to DuBois; it had only been because of him that she had begun to trust Jack, back when they were still getting to know each other. That day at Cafe Replicé she had been open, raw and vulnerable like she hadn’t been in a long time. Jack had seen it, yet he had never used that fear, that moment of vulnerability against her. She knew he thought kissing her in this state had been exactly that, but it hadn’t been. He had kissed her, but he had never tried to use anything she had felt or done that day against her, had never used it to keep her in line or exploited it to bend her to his will. In fact he had never even mentioned it. She had told him most of it after the Rose Weston case, but he had never pried. Instead he had been ashamed of his own behaviour, asking for her forgiveness. That had been why she had allowed herself to go to him, half mad with worry when Jane had disappeared, both times, why she had asked for his support in dealing with Murdoch Foyle and in the end why she had sought his company when she had cried over the body of her sister. Never, not even in the heat of a fight, had he thrown those weaknesses in her face as she had once expected him to because that was what the men she had accused him of turning into would have done. And when she had told him that, his first words had been that he was sorry, for what she would probably never understand. And now that she was crying about how dreadful she had been to him and what a fool she was, he was there again, holding her and being there and she knew he would never use it against her either.  
“I’m so sorry, Jack.” she managed in between sobs, at the precise moment he whispered the exact same sentence.  
She laughed despite her tears, and the relieve in his eyes almost made her cry again. She pressed her lips to his to make it go away. He loosened his hold to cradle her face and wipe away the tears as he tenderly kissed her back.  
“I’ve been such a horrid idiot.” she said “Can you ever forgive me?”  
He shook his head.  
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”  
She kissed him again so he would stop apologising.  
“You may have been right.” she admitted curling into his side, “This case has stirred all sorts of things up for me. Maybe I should take a step back.”  
He leaned back to incredulously look at her face.  
“It’s not like you to back down from a case.” he noted, more concern resonating in his voice.  
“I’m not backing down. Merely considering your advice.” she replied as haughtily as she could manage with her eyes still puffy and red.  
“Also not like you.” he pointed out.  
She sat up to look him straight in the eyes.  
“I always consider you’re advice, Jack.” she said seriously, “I might not always follow it, but I always consider it.”  
“You do?” he asked genuinely surprised.  
“Of course, Jack. You’re an intelligent and considerate man, your advice is usually quite sound.”  
“Which is why you generally ignore it?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.  
“If I ignore it, which is less often than you think by the way,” she insisted, “it is because other considerations outweigh your concerns. And that doesn’t mean you’re concerns aren’t valid or appreciated.” she added before he could comment on that, settling back into his side.  
“They are, ever though I may not always express myself adequately in that regard.”  
He harrumphed but put his arm around her.  
“Well,” he said after a moment, “you might want to add to your considerations that we don’t currently have any lead to follow left. Again. Although I wasn’t exactly my most focused today, I’m fairly sure we’ve exhausted all avenues with Hollinghurst. Miss Greer has never seen our mystery woman and has an alibi, so does Mr Reynolds and Mrs Forbes. And no one in the hotel or on the conference recognised her or could tell us who she was.”  
She chuntered in frustration.  
“Any idea where they went after the Grand”“  
He shook his head. “I had constables ask around at the sly grog shops in the area, but you know how they are when someone in a uniform asks questions.”  
She sighed. “They didn’t hear, see or say anything.” she suggested.  
“Pretty much.”  
In that moment the parlour doors were torn open and Jane stormed in.  
“You won’t believe what I...” she started but broke off when she saw Phryne.  
“What happened?”  
Her foster mother gave a one shouldered shrug.  
“We had a fight.” she admitted.  
Jane scanned them both with a scrutinising look, noting both Phryne’s still slightly puffy face and reddened eyes, and the way Jack had his arm around her and was absentmindedly stroking her knee with his other hand.  
“But you’re good now?” the girl inquired a little anxiously.  
“We’re good.” Jack assured her.


	15. Promise a Speedy Return

The next morning Jack was untypically reluctant to leave the bed and go to work. After their fight the previous day and the subsequent making up, he felt incredibly unwilling to leave Phryne alone and would have given a lot to be able to stay right there beside her, feeling her skin on his.  
Additionally he wasn’t exactly looking forward to work. The Boyd/Hollinghurst case had hit every dead end he could think of and he hadn’t been able to focus on doing much of the paperwork yesterday. Hugh was due back on duty today, and while Jack was happy for his young friend and in general glad to have him back, his experience had taught him not to expect too much from men who had just become fathers for the first time.  
So when he entered his office he was fully prepared for a long, tedious and frustrating day, spend between reports and Hugh Collins off in cloud-cuckoo-land. He expected annoyance and boredom. He could not have been more wrong.

He barely had enough time to sit down at his desk, before a telephone call summoned him to the Chief Commissioner’s office. He sighed deeply before picking up his hat and heading to Russell Street. He hoped he wasn‘t in for a tongue-lashing about the murders. The investigation into Joyce Reynolds death had slightly sidetracked him and on top of that he had taken over another officer’s case without much need. He knew Commissioner Wolfe abhorred everything that could publically make the police force look bad, so he naturally wanted the case of what was increasingly looking like a serial murderer closed as quickly as possible.  
As expected Wolfe demanded a full and extensive report on the investigation, and unsurprisingly he was less than pleased with the result. He seemed, however, less anxious about it than Jack had expected. It didn’t take long before he learned why.  
“It would appear while you were dragging your heels that our murderer has left town, Jack. A body was found this morning in Adelaide matching the other victims.” Wolfe finally told the Inspector.  
Jack’s eyes widened in surprise.  
“Any chance it’s a copy cat?” he inquired, hoping against hope.  
The Commissioner shrugged.  
“Impossible to say just yet. But not something we can take a risk on.” he stated, “I just had a conversation with the Commissioner of the Police of South Australia. They don’t want this to continue any more than we do and they have asked for help. An invitation has been issued for you to join the investigators in Adelaide. You’ll be leaving on the one o’clock train, and you can be there tomorrow morning.”  
Jack’s jaw dropped.  
“To Adelaide? Today?” he asked a lot more eloquently than he felt.  
Wolfe gave him an impatient look.  
“Yes, today Jack, we want you to be there as quickly as possible. If there’s a serial murderer travelling around Australia we need to apprehend him, better today than tomorrow. A public panic is the last thing we want and that’s exactly what will happen if we don’t put a lid on this.”  
He observed Jack who was still processing the news.  
“If I were you Jack, I’d go home and pack.” he said dryly, “One o’clock. If you’re not on that train I’ll consider it a refusal to obey orders and will act accordingly.”

“What today?” Phryne was as incredulous as Jack had been half an hour earlier, “But you can’t leave today. We haven’t solved the case yet.”  
“We’ve hit brick walls wherever we’ve turned, Phryne. From what Wolfe said the next lead could well be in Adelaide. And he’s ordered me to go, so I have to go.”  
He rubbed his forehead.  
“I need to pack and then I need to get back to the station to get some order into my office and organise everything for my absence. Collins is back on duty today, but I doubt he’ll be much use just yet.”  
Phryne slowly recollected herself. “The train leaves at one?”  
He nodded.  
“That’s less than three hours, Jack. How about you get back to the station organise everything while Mr Butler packs your suitcase. And I’ll bring it by when I take you to meet your train.” she suggested.  
Jack squinted a little. He had gotten used to having his meals and drinks prepared and served by a butler. Since he had had a housekeeper to clean and do the laundry for him ever since Rosie had left, he didn’t object to that either, but the small everyday tasks like dressing, shaving, cleaning his shoes or packing a suitcase were things where it felt ostentatious to have them done for him. The only reason he had resigned to having his bed made was because when he left in the mornings Phryne was usually still lying in it.  
She saw him hesitate.  
“You know it’s a reasonable suggestion, Jack. You’ll need all the time you can get. I would pack your case myself, but I doubt you’d be too happy with the result. And I’ll take you to the train station in any case.”  
Jack sighed “Fine.” he acquiesced.  
He did have a lot to do before he left and not having to pack himself would mean a considerable amount of time saved.  
“Thank you.” He gave her a light kiss. “I’ll return to the station then and get everything sorted.” She nodded. “I’ll pick you up at half past noon.”

In the end even the time Mr Butler’s packing bought Jack was barely enough to cover the barest necessities of administrative preparation. Wolfe had promised to organise a replacement as quickly as possible, but for the moment nobody knew who it would be or how the Commissioner would pull said replacement out of his hat, given the police was, as usual, drastically understaffed. All Jack could do, was try and leave his station in a state as orderly as possible for his substitute.  
As he had expected Hugh was of little help. The young father continued to get lost in thoughts with a dreamy smile on his face and sometimes would only react at the third or fourth attempt at addressing him. Still, they managed to get the worst chaos sorted and gather all files and notes concerning the castration murders and any connected cases into a thick envelope to take with him by the time Phryne came to take Jack to his train.  
In addition to his suitcase she had brought a lunchbox large enough to count as an additional suitcase.  
“You’re skipping lunch and there is no telling how much food you’ll get on the train.” she stated at his amused look, “I’m assuming the Victoria police does not send its officers to travel first class.”  
Jack shook his head.  
“Coach.” he confirmed.  
“See. Besides Mr Butler insisted, and Jane made sure he packed plenty of biscuits, your favourite sandwiches and two thermos of tea.”  
Jack’s face fell.  
“I won’t be able to say good-bye to Jane.” he realised.  
Phryne gently took his hand.  
“She understands Jack. She would have come along, but she wanted to give us the chance to say good bye to each other. Either that or she has to return a book to the library by sunset.” she added with a twinkle in her eyes.  
Despite his disappointment Jack had to smile.  
“Probably the latter.” he agreed.

The drive to the Railway station was quiet. Jack refrained from any comments about her driving. Instead he ignored everything going on on the road in favour of watching her.  
If one could ignore the near constant threat of a quick and painful death, watching Phryne drive was a beautiful thing, he realised. Her face lit up to a happy smile as the wind whipped her hair around her cheeks and her bright and sharp eyes darted around taking everything happening in her sight. She was equally focused and excited. It was like watching her solve a murder, in condensed form.  
For the first time since he knew her Jack’s legs didn’t wobble when he got out of her car.  
“You go find you’re train and I’ll have someone take care of your luggage.” she ordered as soon as her feet touched the ground.  
“I can carry my own luggage.” he protested.  
“You have three pieces and only one free hand.” she pointed out.  
Confused Jack looked down at his decidedly empty hands.  
“I’m fairly sure I have two.” he replied.  
“No you don’t.” she said, grabbing his right and firmly intertwining their fingers.

It was ridiculous, Jack though, as he watched Phryne wrap a ticket collector around her little finger in order to get him to do he neither knew nor cared what. This morning he hadn’t even wanted to leave her to go to work and now, not even ten hours later he was all set to leave the state, leaving her behind. She seemed to have fully recovered from yesterday’s meltdown and was back to her normal brazen and bossy self. It comforted him a little. She would be alright, she always was. And there were telephones in Adelaide, weren’t there? They would be alright. Still, he hated the thought of being away from her for an undefined period of time. He had worked on serial murders before; those assignments could drag on for months. Maybe she would visit him at some point. It would only be a day trip in her plane after all. He would cling to that hope. Maybe suggest it if the investigation dragged on.  
She was finished with the ticket collector and returned to him, standing in her familiar position close in front of him.  
“You’ve got fifteen minutes left.” she said.  
“I have to admit a certain amount of surprise you’re just letting me go without more of a fuss.” he confessed, not trying to hide his slight disappointment at the fact.  
“I’m not going to waste my energy on a lost cause, Jack.” he told him, fiddling with his tie. “You’ve been ordered to go, there is nothing I can do about it. Or you for that matter. And we’ve already agreed that we both want you to remain a police officer. Besides,” she raised her eyes to his, “even if you don’t like this case, you still want to see it through.”  
“And you don’t?” he asked. “I know what we said last night, but it’s really not like you to give up.”  
“Who says I’m giving up?” she exclaimed indignantly, “I can still follow up leads here. I might find something we have overlooked so far.”  
Something was definitely off. Her voice had gotten higher in the telltale way it did when she was circumventing the truth. Jack raised an inquiring eyebrow. Her too innocent face convinced him further: She was definitely up to something.  
“Please don’t go undercover as a prostitute in Cremorne.” he begged.  
“I would never do such a thing Jack.” she exclaimed in mock outrage.  
His head tilted sceptically.  
She rolled her eyes.  
“Fine, I would, but I won’t do it while you’re gone.” she conceded.  
Her voice stayed even, but it wasn’t quite enough to convince him.  
“Promise?”  
Another eye roll. “I promise.”  
It sounded almost petulant. Jack let out a deep breath. She might not like it but she was a woman of her word.  
“Thank you. And whatever else you do do, please be careful and please bring backup.” he begged.  
She played at an exasperated sigh, but nodded. “You, too.”  
Normally Jack would refrain from kissing her in public. He hadn’t even kissed her at the docks in Southampton after they hadn‘t seen each other for three months. Although back then propriety had only been one of the reasons for his restrain. He had allowed himself, and her, more liberties as their relationship had progressed and especially since their engagement. He still would have never considered kissing her in a very public train station, however, with potentially hundreds of onlookers. But now, after the strenuous weeks with this case, the emotional rollercoaster of the last two days and facing the prospect of not seeing her for an uncertain amount of time, he was overwhelmed by the need to hold her in his arms and kiss her for as long as he had left. After all she was his fiancée and he was on his way to leaving the state. Phryne responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his as he pulled her close.  
“My, my, Jack,” she panted when they had to come up for air, “if I had known all it took was a good-bye for you to do that, I’d left more often.”  
“Once was enough.” he replied huskily before pressing his mouth to hers once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t had the chance to see the film yet, so I don’t know what Jack and Phryne’s first meeting in England conoically looks like. But since I have a strong feeling this series is heading towards AU territory anyway, I’m sticking with my headcanon that Phryne met Jack in Southampton where they stayed for a couple of days, before facing to meet her parents, and used the time to figure out their relationship. Obviously there is a case there, too.


	16. The Land Left Behind

“Can you imagine the amount of money the government wouldn’t be missing now if they’d settled on half as pompous a building?”  
Jack’s travel companion, a businessman, who had gotten on early in the day in a place called Ki Ki, finished his lesson on both the new railway station in the state capital and, apparently an adjacent topic, government misspending. He was done just in time to give Jack the chance to spy said ‘pompous building’ out of the window before they finally rolled into the station.  
The journey had been long and tedious. Jack had heard many nice things about the landscape between Melbourne and Adelaide, unfortunately the train lines didn’t go near any of it. Most of what he had seen from the window, while there had been daylight, had been low hills and gum trees. Originally he had been supposed to cover most of the distance by night, but then there had been some incident where the fireman had gotten injured somewhere between Ararat and Horesham, and it had taken several hours to get the man to a hospital and for a replacement to arrive. In the end the journey had taken almost twice as long as originally scheduled.  
He had tried to read, but found his mind kept wandering back to the case or to Warldow with Phryne and Jane. He was slightly shocked at how quickly he had gotten used to thinking of the house, of them really, as home; how fast he had gotten used to having a family. He had only properly moved in a few weeks ago and now he was gone barely more than a day and he missed them dreadfully. How Phryne had managed to send Jane to the other side of the world for months on end was a marvel to him.  
To distract himself he had gone back through his case files and notes but there really wasn’t much new to add or find. Their investigation had been thorough. They had the motive, they had a connection between the victims and they had a vague description of a suspect. The only problem was that they had no idea who that suspect could be, since none of the usual candidates qualified.

He arrived in Adelaide shortly after four in the afternoon and was picked up at the railway station by a constable who reminded him suspiciously of Constable Martin, young, eager to impress and just a little too full of himself. Maybe he was getting old, he thought. Constable Arnold had orders to take him to his accommodation, but Jack decided to head directly to the police station. He didn’t have much luggage (the lunch packet Mr Butler had prepared had long disappeared, leaving him again only with his suitcase and the briefcase with the files he would need anyway), so he could do unpacking later. He was delayed already and he wanted to know the details of this latest case as quickly as possible.

Jack was introduced to his South Australian counterpart, Chief Inspector S. Eder by way of an office door with his name on it. Behind it, a middle aged man with an impressive silver moustache was engaged in a telephone conversation.  
"Yes, Commissioner, I believe he’s just arrived."  
Eder got up and shook Jacks hand, without letting go of the telephone. Listening attentively he gestured his visitor to sit.  
"Of course, Commissioner, my pleasure. And thank you again."  
He held out the receiver to Jack and mouthed "Wolfe". Jack nodded and took over.  
"Commissioner? Jack Robinson speaking."  
The connection was terrible, but he could recognise Chief Commissioner Wolfe’s voice.  
"Ah, it really is you, Jack. When did you arrive? Trouble with the train? We almost thought you’d gone missing in action."  
"We were delayed after Ararat, Sir. I left the station about five minutes ago." he reported.  
"And already back at work? You’re not loosing any time, Jack. Very good. Make sure they treat you well, and give you back in good condition. Get that bastard. We can’t have serial murderers travel around Australia."  
"Of course, Sir. We’ll do our best." Jack assured him.  
"I’m counting on it, Jack. Show them how it’s done. Good luck."  
"Thank you, Sir." He hung up.  
Eder watched him with an amused twinkle in his eye.  
"Bit of a worryguts your commissioner, eh?" he commented.  
Jack just shrugged.  
"Better than the last we had." he said, before he could stop himself.  
The other nodded.  
"Heard about that. Damned dreadful mess."  
The Sanderson-Fletcher scandal had made enough waves to make the papers in England; of course the entirety of Australia was well informed about it, especially the police forces.  
Eder shook his head as if to push the thought of all Chief Commissioners aside and held his hand out again.  
"Properly this time. Chief Inspector Sam Eder." he introduced himself.  
"Jack Robinson, Detective Inspector." Jack returned with a smirk and took the hand again.  
"Sorry for having you dragged over here," Eder said, "I know it’s not usual procedure but we have to be seen to do what we can. This is a small town, serial murderers is not something we’re used to here and the press is already whipping up a frenzy." he sighed deeply.  
"Glad to help." Jack replied. "I’m actually grateful. It doesn’t feel right to let go of a case like that."  
The two police officers shared a look of mutual understanding.  
"So, anything interesting you got on your end?" Eder asked.  
Jack pulled the file he had brought from his briefcase and handed it over.  
"Main suspect is one or several unidentified woman. We have vague descriptions, but they’re not specific enough to even limit it to one woman. As for actual evidence, we found a female shoeprint on the first crime scene and a discarded vile of highly concentrated aspirin solution on the second. No fingerprints."  
Eder scanned through the file.  
"What’s the common denominator of the victims?" he asked.  
"Both were male, unmarried, with a rather ungentlemanly attitude to women, to put it mildly." Jack summed up.  
Eder nodded slowly.  
"I see." His forehead furrowed. "Doesn’t seem to fit with mine, thought." he stated thoughtfully, "Married and apparently faithful. By account of his wife at least."  
Jack frowned.  
“I hate to ask, but could the murderer be imitating the murders in Melbourne?”  
Eder’s brows furrowed.  
“We had light press coverage of the second murder here, that’s how we knew to call you when we found our victim. The circumstances of death seem similar. Any details you’ve kept from the press?”  
Jack nodded. “The aspirin. All victims had been imbued with a high dose of blood thinner to make sure they bled out entirely. We didn’t give that detail out and I don‘t think I’ve read it anywhere.”  
Before Eder could reply there was a tentative knock on the door.  
“Inspector Robinson?” The young Constable peeked into the office, “There is a lady here who insists on seeing you.”  
Jack observed the Constable carefully. He was a little flushed and looked decidedly uncomfortable in his own skin while at the same time trying to look as professional as he still could. Jack nearly laughed out loud. Suddenly he felt very giddy. Only one woman in all of Australia had that effect. Well, two maybe, but her aunt was unlikely to have followed him to Adelaide. He had no idea how she had pulled that of again, only about fifteen minutes after him no less, but he really should have expected nothing less.  
“Please tell Miss Fisher, I’ll be right with her.” he said calmly, with only a small smirk in the corner of his mouth that someone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have noticed.  
He had known she had been up to something. Eder gave him a curious look.  
"You have friends in Adelaide?" he asked.  
Jack shook his head. "No, I suspect that is Melbourne having followed me here." he replied dryly, trying hard to push the sudden burst of happiness down.  
His attitude changed the instant he stepped out of the office and laid eyes on the person waiting in the reception area.  
“Jane?”  
The teenager grinned brightly.  
“Hello, Jack.” she said, almost hitting the right cadence.  
Well, make that three of them then.  
“What are you doing here? How…?” He didn’t get to finish.  
“I’m not here alone, don’t worry.” Jane interrupted, laughing, “Phryne’s looking for a place to park the Hispano. Legally.” she added for extra emphasis.  
Jack raised an eyebrow.  
“Phryne? Phryne Fisher looking for a legal parking spot? What did you do to her on the journey?”  
Jane laughed a little harder.  
“She said she doesn’t want to get you in trouble on your first day in a new town.” she explained.  
Before Jack could ask how exactly _her_ illegal parking would get _him_ in trouble, the lady in question entered the station in her usual energetic manner and the typical flurry of silk, fur and French perfume. Her face lit up the moment she saw him.  
“Hello Jack!”  
He couldn’t help return her smile.  
“Miss Fisher. What are you doing here?”  
She gave him one of her brightest and most innocent smiles.  
“It occurred to me that Jane has seen most of Europe by now, but hardly anything of Australia. And neither have I come to think of it, and that really won’t do at all. So I decided her remaining holidays would be the perfect opportunity to take her on a road trip, now that we’ve hopefully got the worst part of winter behind us. We took the scenic route along the coast,” she beamed, “otherwise we would have been here earlier. Did we miss anything?”  
Jack took a step closer and lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard by the entire station.  
“You brought Jane along, while you’re following what’s likely a triple murderer.” he ground out between his teeth.  
“One who goes exclusively after men, Jack. She’ll be perfectly fine.” Miss Fisher waved aside his concern, “And I was primarily following a single police detective. Well, not exactly single.”, she added with a wink.  
Jack didn’t allow himself to blush. Unfortunately he couldn’t argue with her logic, even if the whole thing did not sit well with him. Not even her admission that she had followed him more than the case did dispel his concerns, had he been inclined to believe her. Fortunately they were interrupted by Inspector Eder who had followed Jack out of his office.  
“So when’s the wedding day?” he asked casually.  
Jane grinned. “They’ve only just gotten engaged last month. How did you know?”  
He shrugged. “People who bicker like that, they’re either married or related. But in neither case he’d call her Miss, so fiancée it is.”  
Jane nodded slowly.  
“I guess that makes sense.” she agreed.  
“And you are?” he asked.  
“Jane Ross.” Jane held out her hand, “I’m Miss Fisher’s ward.”  
“Chief Inspector Samuel Eder, pleasure to meet you Miss Ross.” he said and took her hand.  
“Likewise.” Jane grinned.  
“Phryne Fisher,” Phryne added and took over the Inspectors hand as soon as Jane had let go of it, “pleased to make your acquaintance. You’re the one who requested Jack’s presence here?”  
He nodded. “I know it’s not how we usually operate, but this isn’t Melbourne or Sydney. This is a nice town, not a big city; we don’t get serial murderers here.”  
“I think it’s a marvellous idea. I’m all for collaboration. One never knows the details that might become important but were never thought to be mentioned before, let alone put in a report.” she said graciously.  
“My thoughts exactly.” Eder agreed.  
"It may have been a tactical error to admit that to Miss Fisher though." Jack warned his colleague.  
Anyone who knew him could see an amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Eder raised an eyebrow.  
"Why would you say that?" he asked.  
"Miss Fisher is a private detective and she has been working on the two Melbourne victims." Jack informed him.  
Eder’s eyebrow rose even higher.  
"Private detective?" His eyes darted between Jack and Phryne. "What do you do to your women in Melbourne, Inspector?"  
"Try to keep up with them, mostly." Jack replied dryly.  
Eder smiled a small, knowing smile.  
"Well, I meant what I said." he said, "I take all the help I can get. Miss Fisher, maybe you want to come in," he gestured towards his office. "I believe Inspector Robinson and I were just about to start going over the case we had here." He turned to look at Jane.  
“Will Miss Ross be joining us, too?” he asked with a wink.  
“She most certainly will not.” Phryne declared forcefully. Jane turned her eyes heavenward and demonstratively planted herself on the bench in the waiting area.  
“Don’t worry about me.” she stated and scrabbled in her pouch until she had dislodged a small volume, “I have a book.”

“With what you told me I think it’s safe to say we’re looking for the same murderer, Inspector Robinson.” Eder began as soon as the two Melbourne detectives had taken their seats in the visitor’s chairs in his office, the second one having been pulled from an interview room. He handed Jack the file for his own case.  
“Our victim, too, had a high dosage of aspirin in his blood.” Jack skimmed through the file and handed it to Phryne.  
“Mr Chanu Ali. Jeweller, worked in a shop in North Adelaide. Found the parklands on the north shore of the Torrens by a cyclist at six a.m. two days ago. He was tied to a tree. His, ehrm, he was castrated and left to bleed out, the ehm, organ removed seems to have been disposed of in the river.” Eder summed up the Adelaide murder.  
Phryne was scanning the case file, while Jack red the coroner’s report.  
"So far, so similar." she noted, "Except that this time the victim was married."  
"And the fact that he had a fresh head wound, none of the other victims had." Jack observed.  
"Attained in a similar manner to Hollinghurst’s hand injury?" Phryne suggested, looking over his shoulder to the point in the report he indicated.  
“Possible, but fresher.” he supplied  
She took in the information and went back to her file:  
"Last seen at a meeting of the Islamic community at an address in Hill Street where he went without his wife and left at quarter past nine. He never made it home according to the wife."  
"The coroner puts his death between midnight and two am." Jack reported.  
Phryne raised an eyebrow.  
"Earlier than our other victims." she noted.  
“I think I know why: there was no alcohol in his blood.” Jack noticed surprised.  
Inspector Eder shook his head.  
“According to Mrs Ali and her brother, Mr Ali was a very strict follower of the laws of his faith: He didn’t drink.”  
“That explains the head wound.” Phryne commented, “If they couldn’t get him drunk they had to subdue him another way.”  
"And why there is no suspect in this case." Jack added. "If he was just knocked out there was no need to charm him first."  
"I admit I had been hoping you could confirm that some detail of the way the body was positioned was wrong so we wouldn’t deal with the same killer." Eder sighed, "There had of course been the possibility that someone read about the murders in Melbourne and decided to copy them. The timing did speak for that."  
"The timing?" Phryne asked.  
The Adelaidean detective nodded.  
"Between the murders of Mr Boyd and Mr Hollinghurst were eight days, if I’m informed correctly." he stated.  
"But Ali has only been murdered four days after Hollinghurst." Jack caught on to his colleague’s train of thought. "The trip takes at least the better part of a day so not a lot of time to plan the murder of Mr Ali, if the murderer had to travel here from Melbourne."  
"Exactly." Eder confirmed. "That’s part of the reason I asked for you to come. To make sure it was the same murderer. Which I suppose you did." he let out another deep sigh.  
Clearly he had clung to the hope of a copy cat killer rather than having to deal with a real serial murderer.  
"We’re not even sure yet if we’re dealing with only one murderer." Jack pointed out, but reached for the file from Phryne’s hands anyway. She relinquished it in return for the coroner’s report. Eder couldn’t hide a smile at the natural ease with which his two guests worked together. He might have been slightly surprised that this Inspector Robinson had, admittedly involuntarily it seemed, brought a whole posse with him, but there could be no doubt that those two where a team well attuned to each other.

“We assumed there was a connection between the victims, or the women they violated with the Royal Melbourne Hospital.” Phryne explained.  
“Unfortunately we couldn’t establish a direct connection between the victims.” Jack added. “When I got here I thought maybe there was a transfer.”  
“At least that is a lead we can follow up on.” Eder sighed relieved, “I’ll set my people on to it. I suggest you do the same with yours, wire them to inquire if that hospital, or maybe any hospital had any recent transfer to Adelaide. Say in the last few weeks just to be sure. That would certainly explain why our killer hopped to another city.”  
Jack nodded.  
“I’ll get Collins onto it.” he promised.  
The other Inspector nodded gratefully.  
“We got the widow coming in again, first thing tomorrow; maybe you two can get something more out of her.”  
He got up. “You should get a good nights rest, recover from the journey. Must have been exhausting.” Eder proposed.  
He wasn’t wrong, but a look at his watch told Jack that it was still way too early to call it a day. Eder noticed the quick look at the time piece.  
“No worries, we’ve got the shift covered. And there isn’t much to do right now other then the paper work. And as much as I wouldn‘t mind saddling you with that, you don’t have the authority here.” he grinned.  
“I’ll need to write reports for my Commissioner.” Jack remembered, sighing at the thought.  
“I recommend you do that, when you actually have something to report.” Eder suggested, “If you’re good we might even find you a desk until then. By good I mean, go, sort your bed out and show your girls a good time, since they’ve come all this way. This is a nice town, make sure they remember it for something else than a murderer castrating men in public parks. Tomorrow we’ll see what Mrs Ali can tell us and if we can find that hospital connection. Until then you’re off duty, by order of the officer in charge. Who happens to be me, in case that wasn’t clear.” He gave Phryne a wink.  
She was grinning ear to ear.  
“I like him.” she declared, gracing the Inspector with a radiant smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make: My original motivation for starting to write this story, way back when, was that I wanted to write a fic that was set in Adelaide. Of course, when it came to the question of how to get them there my weird brain didn’t go for any of the simple, obvious ways (visiting a friend, going on holiday, organised crime…), no it went straight to ‘serial killer’, which turned out to be the most circuitous route possible. But now, finally, fifteen chapters in, here we are.  
> The Railway Station in Adelaide was built between 1922 and ‘28. The project went way above budget, which caused some controversy when SA went nearly bankrupt at onset of the great depression.  
> Ki Ki is actually a real town in South Australia (what a great name, isn’t it). It was proclaimed in 1913 and counts a proud 200 inhabitants today. At some point in history they had a train station, though I don’t know for what period of time.  
> I’m not sure how long train rides between Melbourne and Adelaide would have taken but a friend of mine (who is an historian and actually specialises on railway history of all things) told me trains would have been about similarly fast then as they are today (depending on the engine model). For today Google estimates between 10 and 12 hours, so I calculated about 15, given there where more stops back then and steam trains take time to get back up to speed.  
> My friend also came up with the idea of the fireman being injured to delay the train, so Phryne could catch up because cars where definitely slower than trains then. Thank you.


	17. The Brightness of Starlight

They had concluded the preliminarily briefing of the new case. Both Melbourne detectives had a long journey behind them and, even though neither of them would have ever admitted it, they were rather exhausted. They agreed that Eder and his team had done exemplary work so far and postponed all further investigation gladly to the next day.  
When they came back out to the reception area of the station, Jane was animatedly chatting with the young constable. Jack was fairly certain he didn’t like the look on the young man’s face. His reaction surprised him a little. Jane wasn’t his daughter. She was Phryne’s ward and it was only a few months that he was anything to her other than the policeman who had nearly arrested her for murder. What right had he to feel protective over her? Besides she was Phryne’s ward and a former street rat, if anyone didn’t need protecting it was Jane. And with her recent foray into the works of a certain Roman poet at least she would recognise any untoward behaviour, he hoped. He still couldn’t stop himself from throwing the young man a warning look.  
"Did you know that the South Australia Police is the third oldest police force in the world?" Jane had spun around and was sharing her newly acquired knowledge with Phryne and Jack, "And they were the first to have women police officers in the British Commonwealth."  
Phryne nodded appreciatively  
"How marvellously progressive." she commented.  
"They even have a female constable at this station. But she’s not on duty right now." Jane reported excitedly.  
Behind his Victorian guests Inspector Eder grinned.  
"I’m sure you’ll get to meet her, if you stick around for a bit." he promised, "She was on scene for the Ali murder. One of the few Constables who didn’t lose their breakfast."  
“Unfortunately this will all take a bit of time.” Phryne addressed her ward slightly apologetically, “We’ll probably be staying here for a few days at least and we’ll be pretty tied up tomorrow. You might have to start exploring the town on your own for a bit.” she suggested.  
Jane grinned “You just don’t want to go look at the library with me.” she teased.  
“How can you say that?” Phryne exclaimed, faking indignation, “I’m sure Jack would love to go to the library with you.”  
Jack shook his head and decided to ignore his name being taken in vain. He gave the Constable at the desk orders to wire to Melbourne instead.  
“If you’re sure there is nothing else we can do today,” he turned to Eder.  
The older man gave him a knowing smile  
“You’re the type who spends all night in his office pouring over case files, aren’t you?” he guessed.  
Jack tried not to look too caught out.  
“A year ago I didn’t have much to go home to.” he admitted.  
“Well, you do now.” Eder said with a nod towards the two women happily bantering.  
Jack couldn’t suppress a low chuckle at the sight.  
“I guess I do.” he agreed and put his hat on.  
“Tomorrow.” he said as he tipped his hat towards his colleague, who nodded.  
“Tomorrow.”  
Jack turned to his girls, as Eder had called them, and carefully started herding them towards the door. “How about you show me that fabled legal parking spot you allegedly found, Miss Fisher.” he suggested.  
“Weeell,” Phryne’s voice rose several notes, “I did look for one.”  
Inspector Eder and the present members of North Adelaide Police Station watched the odd but clearly tight-knit family as they headed out. Constable Arnold leered at his colleagues.  
"How do you think he caught a fancy bird like that?" he asked no one in particular.  
Eder gave him an innocent look.  
"Do you think that information will help us find that serial murderer crossing state lines?" he asked as if the Constable had just opened up a new line of investigation.  
Behind the front desk Constable Roth stifled a snicker. He was younger than his colleague but had served longer under the Chief so he had learned a healthy distrust for his superiors feigned innocence. Arnold stumbled a little, but didn’t seem concerned.  
"No, Sir, of course not."  
"Then I really don’t see the relevance, Constable." Inspector Eder declared coolly and returned to his office without any further comment. Arnold was young, but he saw no point in letting any bad habits take root in his Constables. Besides, if he let a comment like that out in front of Chrissy Maar he would have to deal out disciplinary measures, which only served to produce more paperwork. And with that unconventional collaboration he would have more than enough of that to deal with.

"Where are you staying?" Phryne asked on their way to the car.  
Jack pulled out a paper with directions he had gotten from the Constable picking him up.  
"Thebarton Police Barracks. Where unmarried policemen with no home of their own usually stay." he replied with a shrug.  
"Well, give me the address then we can pick up your things. I found a very nice hotel on the other side of the river." she told him.  
He gave her a look. "Phryne..."  
"You’re not a single man anymore Jack. You’re my fiancé and no one can expect me to let you put your back out in a barrack while I sleep in a hotel."  
He held her eyes for a moment, before he sighed dramatically and gave in.  
“I haven’t actually been there yet.” He lifted his suitcase as proof.  
“Saves us the trip.” she grinned triumphantly.  
Jack merely exchanged an exasperated look with Jane, who lifted her shoulders apologetically but grinned almost as widely as Phryne.

It turned out she had found a parking spot that was at least not obviously illegal, although the way she was standing in it almost certainly was. Fortunately Jack was too distracted by the unbelievable amount of luggage that was pilled up in the car to care. He was fairly sure he hadn’t brought that much when he had moved his household and that included all his books.  
“You drove all the way here, like that?” he asked incredulously, “Is there anything still left at Wardlow?”  
Phryne shoot him an unamused look.  
“Well we don’t know how long this is going to take and I don’t have Dot to mend anything if I ruin it.” she pointed out, “And I like to be prepared for all occasions.” she added with a wink.  
“I’m not sure there enough space left for a third person and a suitcase though.” Jane warned.  
Phryne made a dismissive gesture.  
“Poppycock.” she decreed, “We’ll just have to move things around a little. We only need to make enough space so you can fit in the back. Jack’s bigger than you, so he’ll have to go in the front and he can take his case on his lap.”  
Which was exactly what they did it in the end, about ten minutes and a few frustrated curses later.

Jack would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t glad he didn’t have to spend his nights in the police barracks. He assumed they had slightly improved since his academy days, but he wouldn’t have put money on it. But he still couldn’t help drawing in a sharp breath, when he realised Phryne had picked one of the most luxurious hotels in town. It took him less than a second to come to the conclusion that he should really not have expected anything else.  
“You know I could be stuck here for a while.” he pointed out as they climbed out of the car.  
“All the more reason to make our stay comfortable.” Phryne retorted without a moment’s hesitation, “Consider it a family holiday if it bothers you.”  
She took his arm. “I promise I won’t tell anyone at the station.”  
He rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.  
“You’re impossible.” he said and stepped back to let her deal with the check in. She just grinned.

Arriving at the rooms, however, she had to face a small setback.  
“I told them you were my fiancé, why did they give us two separate rooms?” she asked irritably, staring accusingly at the two doors the Concierge had led them to and watching the hotel staff distributing their luggage into them.  
“Because we’re not married and they want to avoid being raided.” Jack said patiently, before she could unload her wrath on the poor man. Instead he thanked and tipped him and his crew, and moved to occupy his room.  
“What’s the point in being engaged to you if we can’t even share a hotel room?” she pouted.  
“There is a connecting door.” he observed.  
“That’s not the same.” she pointed out.  
“It’s enough to get them into serious trouble if I were so inclined.” he gave her a sly grin, “Luckily I‘m rather in favour of this arrangement.”  
Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest.  
"Can I have the room at the other end of the corridor." she begged.  
Phryne gave her a confused look.  
"Of course not. You’re right next door to me. At least this hotel has done something the way I wanted them to." she said petulantly.  
Jack rolled his eyes at her antics. Jane’s sigh was equally deep and long suffering.  
“Just try to behave like adults.” she ordered and Jack had to suppress a chortle.  
“I’ve been trying to tell her that for years.” he pointed out.  
“Oh, but you’re just as bad.” Jane folded her arms in front of her chest, “I’m just asking you to not get all gooey over each other. It’s bad enough when we’re at home. We’re not the only ones in this Hotel.” she declared.  
Jack felt himself blush to a crimson so deep it would have put Hugh at the Imperial Club to shame. They weren’t that bad, were they? He remembered Mac voicing a similar opinion not too long ago.  
Jane rolled her eyes at his clear embarrassment.  
“Look,” she said a little more affable, “I love you both and you’re really, really cute together. But for everybody who wasn’t waiting for you to finally get together, you’re also really, really...,“ she struggled to find the right word and finally settled for an “Ugh.” which managed to express her feelings astoundingly well. “And nobody knows you here. Or me. So please don’t make me feel like I’m the one adulting you.”  
“I’m fairly sure that’s not a word.” Phryne pointed out.  
Jane gave her a withering look. “Just pretend I’m Aunt Prudence when we’re in public, alright.”

Jack was still flushed by the time Jane had been given her key and had trudged off to her own room. Phryne laughed whole-heartedly at him.  
"Maybe we should be a little more discreet." he worried. He had been sure they had been; he had after all mostly refrained from kissing her, despite the occasionally overwhelming urge, while they were in public. Surely no one could expect him to not even touch her. Or look at her admiringly. Or... He took a deep breath admitting, to himself at least, that Jane might have a point.  
"Don’t worry Jack, being embarrassed by your parents in a perfectly normal part of growing up." Phryne said dismissively, "And I’m actually quite glad to see her acting like a teenager rather than a sixty year old university professor for once."  
"I’m not entirely sure who is more embarrassed in this scenario, though." he muttered, "And we’re not her parents."  
Phryne threw him a sideways glance only to see that he was clearly still reeling over that exchange.  
"Please Jack," she stepped in front of him and took his face between her hands, "please tell me you know you’re the closest thing to a father Jane has ever had."  
He scoffed disbelievingly.  
"I’m the police officer who almost arrested her for murder."  
"You are the police officer who arrested the people who were exploiting her."  
She pressed a light kiss to his lips.  
"Who convinced welfare to let me taker her in," Another kiss. His hands settled on her hips.  
"Who solved the murder of her friend," His eyes fell shut.  
"Who saved her mother’s life. Both her mothers’ lives." she added as an afterthought and let her hands slip from his face to his neck as she pressed a more lingering kiss to his mouth.  
"You’re the one man in her life who has always been there when she needed you. For both of us."  
This time he returned the kiss and it caused a proper break in her speech. When they separated he leaned his forehead against hers, their eyes meeting.  
"And you’re the man she’ll want to talk to about all the books she weighed my car down with coming here." Phryne finished with a chuckle.  
He gave her an exasperated look.  
“I really don‘t know what she means with ‘gooey”.” he stated sullenly, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

Jack couldn’t help grinning at Jane’s luggage spread across the room. Seeing it he couldn’t help thinking Phryne might have been right.  
“You know, I do believe they have bookshops in Adelaide, too.” he ventured.  
Jane gave him a pitying look.  
“That’s why I left room in the case.” she said pointedly.  
Jack nodded. Of course she had. So had he, but that was hardly the point.  
It had surprised him to learn how similar Jane’s attitude towards books was to his own. It made sense of course, when he thought about it. Jane had never had much access to books before she had been found by Phryne. Now that she had and had discovered her love for them, she was reading everything she could get her hands on. You could never know what life threw at you after all, so you had to seize the chances you got. For Jack it had been the war that had made him realise that; that and the magic that was in books. Despite his parent’s best efforts he had never been much of a reader as a young lad, but after he’d come back he had started devouring books like a man obsessed. It had of course all started with Shakespeare, those strange convoluted lines that had barely made sense to him in school that had revealed their genius and beauty to him in the darkest time of his life. And whatever desire to hide from the world and leave his miserable life behind had brought him to the shores of the Nile, the palaces of Elyria and the forests of Athens and Arden, had soon led him to the American west, the Russian winters and the Caribbean seas through the words of other writers. Quickly he had realised that books always led to more books and so his collection and his appetite for more had inevitably grown.  
He had been a little reluctant towards French books for a while. Everything that might remind him of that place was something he approached carefully and warily, but since Jane had returned from France, she had encouraged him with her own enthusiasm to venture there, too. He found he had actually taken a liking to Jules Verne, Alexandre Dumas and, to his own surprise, Baudelaire. That Phryne owned a copy of the controversial poet on the other hand had not surprised him in the slightest.  
Jack picked up a few of the books lying around. Half the authors he had never even heard of, the other half was achingly familiar.  
“What are you reading right now?” he asked.  
“ _Twenty-four hours in the life of a woman_.” the answer came promptly.  
She showed him the book. He raised an eyebrow.  
“This is what, the fifth Zweig novel you have?”  
“Seventh actually.” she replied completely unabashed.  
In regard to his own collections of everything Zane Grey and William Shakespeare Jack decided not to call that particular kettle black.  
“Any good?” he asked instead.  
Jane nodded. “It’s not as good as _Letters from an unknown woman_ but better than _A story told in twilight_. So far anyway.” she decreed.  
Without being privy to her exact ranking of the Austrian’s novels, Jack could only take this evaluation at face value.  
“Oh,” she suddenly jumped up and started digging through a pile next to the bed. “You’re gonna love this one.”  
She found the book, a thin volume, clad in blue.  
“ _Das Schloss_. Franz Kafka?” he read out loud. “I still have Hugo to get through.” he dared to insinuate.  
“Still?” Jane sounded incredulous, “But it’s not a hard read, all you need to do is start and it almost reads itself.”  
“That may be but I do actually have to work sometimes.” he defended himself.  
“You had a thirty hour train ride.” she pointed out.  
“Twentyseven.”  
There wasn’t much else he could say in his defence. The truth was he hadn’t dared attempting _Les Miserables_ yet. He knew enough about it to know that a story about exploitation and civil war in the streets of Paris might hit him harder than he was ready for, especially at the moment.  
"Are you alright, being here?" he asked suddenly, "With me and Phryne, I mean. Working on a murder. It’s not exactly a normal family holiday."  
To his utter surprise Jane burst out laughing.  
"You know my friend Majory from school?" she asked when she had calmed down a little.  
Jack nodded. Marjory was one of the few friends Jane had made at Warley Grammar and had stayed in contact with throughout her time abroad. She had been by the house a few times since Jane’s return, too.  
"When I told her about his trip, that I was going to Adelaide with you and Phryne because you were working a case there and Phryne made it a family thing so we could spent time together, she said ‘Other families go to Luna Park.’"  
She had another laughing fit and Jack couldn’t help but join in.  
"Would you have preferred going to Luna Park?" he asked after a moment.  
Jane tilted her head. "I ride with Phryne in a car all the time. Do you really think the great scenic railway has much on that?"  
Jack had to laugh again. "Good point."  
"Besides, remember the last three times Phryne went on a ‘normal’ holiday? At least this time we already know what we’re getting into."  
That, too, was a very good point, Jack had to admit.  
"I wouldn’t have minded staying with Dot and the baby for a few more days, but you know Phryne would have never insisted that I come if I didn’t want to. I’ve been alone at the house with Mr Butler, Bert and Cec plenty of times. But I do want to see more of Australia. I miss travelling. And I do want to spend time with both of you," she rolled her eyes at him, "even if I have to share it with a corpse and your timing stinks. Besides," her eyes sparkled mischievously, "I can’t go to Luna Park with you. That’s were you took Phryne on your first date."  
Jack’s eyes widened for the fraction of a second before he regained control over his features and schooled them to his usual inscrutability.  
"I think you’ll find that Phryne had already taken me on a date to Queenscliff weeks before that." he replied stoically, his amusement only visible by the twinkle in his eyes.  
"That was a whole weekend" Jane huffed, "And there was a case. That does not count as a date."  
Jack shrugged. "It was a long date." he said and by now a smile was irresistibly tugging at the corner of his mouth, "And as you said, try to go anywhere with Phryne without her finding a murder."  
Jane rolled her eyes. "Well, there wasn’t one in Luna Park."  
"Not on that day." Jack specified.  
"So it’s special, I can’t go there with you." Jane insisted.  
Jack would have been lying if he had said he understood the logic in that argument, but it didn’t seem like something Jane could be swayed about. Apart from that they were in a different city now anyway, so it seemed a moot point to argue for now.  
“How do you feel about dinner?” he asked instead.  
They both agreed it was a good idea and headed back to Phryne’s room to persuade her to come downstairs.

Jack knocked gently at the door to her room before he pushed it open, simply assuming she hadn’t locked the door after he had left. He was right, but hadn’t expected the sight that greeted him inside.  
Phryne lay curled up on top of her bed, still dressed in her travel clothes, fast asleep. She had pushed her shoes and her coat off, but other than that she had clearly fallen asleep were she had sat on the bed. Jack’s notebook was lying next to her on the blanket. Jack and Jane exchanged a look.  
“When did you say you left Melbourne?” he asked conversationally, whispering, not to disturb the sleeper.  
Only now it occurred to him that she must have been driving for two days straight in order to make it here so fast. No wonder she was exhausted. Sometimes he almost forgot how good she was at putting on a brave face and not letting anything show until she had absolutely nothing left. “I don‘t think we left more than an hour after you. Mr B hardly had time to pack everything.” the girl told him, equally quiet.  
Jack picked up the room key from the bedside table and his notebook. He scribbled down a few lines and placed it open where the key had been. Quietly he locked the door and left through the connecting door, making sure to leaving it open.  
“How about you tell me all about it over dinner.” he suggested.

The two headed downstairs to the hotel’s dining room where they picked a table in a quiet corner. Once they had placed their orders Jack encouraged Jane to continue.  
“We took the Great Ocean Road to Lorne. Don’t look like that, she was careful.” she added seeing Jack shudder at the thought of Phryne driving the narrow one lane road which was hazardous under the best of circumstances, not to mention Phryne’s driving at this time of the year.  
“Nothing happened; there wasn’t a single car there except for us. We took a break in Lorne and then drove on to Warnambool.” Jane continued her account. „It was late when we got there, but we got up early this morning, got off before eight. We took lunch in a place called Naracoote and then we drove straight here.” she finished.  
Jack nodded. So Phryne had been driving close to eight hours today before she had breezed in the police station with her usual energy and taken on an investigation. If nothing else her stamina was impressive. He began to realise exactly how she had managed the incredible feat of flying all the way to London, and looking at her now, just how much it must have cost her. It was almost a miracle she hadn’t fallen asleep at the station.

Dinner was spent with Jane telling him about the things they had seen on the journey. She was quite excited about the Koalas, but rather disappointed they hadn’t come across a kangaroo.  
“It’s really embarrassing when you’re abroad and you have to admit to people that even if you’re from Australia you’ve never seen one outside a zoo.” she explained.  
Jack hummed in sympathy around his lamb roast. He too was a little taken aback by Jane’s ignorance in that regard, not that he would ever tell her, but then she had grown up in the city. Jack on the other hand had spend long holidays on his grandparents’ farm as a boy where he had been exposed to all kinds of wildlife.  
“People didn‘t make fun of you did they?” he asked cautiously.  
“Only until I told them about the penguins.” the girl stated with a smug grin that made him laugh.

After dinner Jane decided to have an early night in. She wasn’t quite as exhausted as Phryne, but the day had been long and exciting. And of course she had a book to finish.  
“You’ll look after Phryne?” she asked one hand already on her door. Jack nodded and Jane seemed to relax.  
“Night then.” she said and disappeared in her room.  
Jack carefully entered Phryne’s room through this own. He had been a little anxious about locking her in the room, so he had made sure the connecting door was open and had left the key visible on the bedside table. His worry had been unnecessary as it turned out: when he came back now she had barely moved. For a long moment he just looked at her. Unlike than her usual sleeping position, spread out on her stomach in the middle of the bed, she was curled in an almost foetal position in the corner of the mattress where she must have been sitting. Her shoulders were pulled up and her arms tucked close to her chest. Her face was covered by her hair, but underneath looked serene and relaxed. Gently Jack stroked his fingertips down her arm.  
“Phryne.” he whispered, pushing the hair out of her face.  
She frowned and made a displeased sound.  
“We need to get you out of your clothes, Phryne.” he continued to tenderly stroke her arms, “Even Mrs Collins won’t be able to save them if you sleep in them.”  
Slowly her eyes fluttered open and focused on him.  
“Jack.” she mumbled drowsily reaching for his hand.  
He took it and used it to gently urge her to roll onto her back before he started to undo the buttons on her trousers. Her eyes fell shut again and she hummed contentedly.  
“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly. “Jane and I already went for dinner; we didn’t want to wake you. But the kitchen should still be open.” he told her.  
She shook her head. “’m fine.” she mumbled.  
Carefully he pulled her trousers down and off, encouraging her to lift her bottom off the bed as he did so. She helped as much as she could without moving too much, but her eyes opened again and followed his movements. She was slowly waking up a little more. But letting Jack undress her was far too nice to let him know.  
“Was there a special reason you decided to take a break in Lorne?” he asked conversationally, while he unclipped her garter. He had a particular suspicion but tried not to let her hear it in his voice.  
“It’s the end of the Great Ocean Road and the largest town within miles.” she told him. “We had to turn inland from there.”  
“Ah.” he hummed.  
“And of course I wanted a look at Mrs Moller’s holiday cottages.” she added slyly, fully enjoying the feeling of his hands gliding down her legs as he removed her stockings. A smile spread over Jack’s face.  
“You’re an incurable snoop.” he said, kissing the top of her head and grabbing her hands.  
“Up.” he ordered pulling her into a sitting position.  
“I can’t believe you came after me. In your car.”  
He started to undo the buttons on her blouse.  
“‘course I did. You’d done the same.” she mumbled, sleep already reaching for her again.  
“Don’t get this wrong, I love that you’re here, but why did you come. And don’t tell me it‘s all for Jane.”  
He finished with the buttons and carefully pulled the light fabric over her head. Phryne rolled her eyes at him, or would have if her face had not been obscured by clothing.  
“You’ve always been coming after me, so I thought it’s only right I do the same for you.” she quipped, letting her hands drop back to the mattress like lead weights, “You know I believe in equal opportunities.”  
The look on his face told her he wasn’t going to let it go with a joke. She sighed.  
“I want to find this murderer, Jack.” she said seriously, “I may not have decided yet, if I want to buy her a drink or see her hang, but I want to find her. And I couldn’t bare the thought of staying in Melbourne, not knowing how long you’d be gone, if you’d be alright, what is happening. And I’d miss you.” she added the last sentence quietly, watching as he neatly folded her clothes on a chair and shrugged off his own jacket. He stopped in his movements for a moment, but only for a moment then he continued to undress. When he was down to his underwear he stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.  
“Thank you. I would have missed you, too.” he murmured.  
She snuggled into his embrace. He was warm and comfortable and she could feel her eyes fall shut again.  
“I love you.” she mumbled.  
His arms around her tightened a little. “I know. I love you, too.” he replied quietly, with a small but happy smile on his face.  
He held her a moment longer then let her go.  
“Off to bed with you now. I’ll be right back.” he ordered and headed to his own room.  
He had wisely left his door open so he slipped back into his room to get his pyjamas before going through his nightly ablutions. He wondered briefly if Phryne would want to wash up, but then comforted himself that she often didn’t bother with such things when she came home in the small hours after a night out. He assumed the hotel’s staff would know how to deal with make-up stains on the pillows.  
He half expected her to have gone back to sleep by the time he got back, but to his surprise she was sitting upright in bed, now underneath the blanket she had invitingly thrown back for him. He crawled in next to her and was greeted with a sweet kiss. As soon as he was settled she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, pulling the doona over hers.  
“So what are your plans with Jane?” he asked quietly, “This investigation could drag on. Surely you don’t expect her to sit around Adelaide for the next month.”  
“Of course not, Jack. I thought we might take the new train line north to the outback, see a bit of scenery.”  
Jack chuckled. “You’re telling me you intend to be stuck on a train for days on end? You didn’t even make it to Ballard without a murder.”  
“Jack, you make it sound like I killed Mrs Henderson.” she chastised him jokingly.  
“No, but you would have died of boredom if her daughter hadn’t.” he returned.  
Instead of giving back a witty remark she furrowed her brows in thought.  
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll have to take her on the Moth then. Better view anyways.” She grinned widely.  
“You didn’t bring the plane, too, did you?”  
Jack felt the urgent need to massage his temples. She gave him a look from under her fringe.  
“Even I can’t transport a plane in the Hispano, Jack.” she pointed out the obvious.  
Jack kept himself from pointing out the equally obvious, that she had a particular talent for doing things that where supposed to be impossible.  
“I would of course have to drive back. But I’m not in any hurry right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, massive historical note coming up:  
> About SAPOL: Both facts about the South Australian Police are true: They were founded in 1838, making it the third oldest police force in the world, and according to their own website they were the first in the commonwealth to appoint two female officers, Kate Cocks and Annie Ross, in 1915 (though there is some contradictory information from a Newspaper claiming in the 1930s that the first Police woman in Australia was a Lady with the Melbourne police who was sworn in in 1924). In 1935 there were 13 female officers in SAPOL. I added one for this story. The woman police force was also not part of the main force until the 50s, as I understand it. I changed that, too. But they were paid the same as the men.  
> SA mounted Police moved Thebarton Police Barracks in 1917 from the barracks at North Terrace.  
> Melbourne had barracks as well for unmarried officers but show ignored that to have Hugh sleep in the cells. I’m not complaining. 
> 
> Books: Jane’s new favourite writer Stefan Zweig, a famous Austrian writer, was in the 20s & 30s considered one of the most popular writers in the world. The Novella ‘Twenty-four hours in the live of a woman’ was published 1927, ‘Letters from an unknown woman’ in 1922, and ‘A story told in twilight’ in 1911. I don’t know about translations to English, but if he was that popular they wouldn’t have been far behind. I haven’t read either of them, so the ranking is completely arbitrary.  
> Das Schloss (The castle) is one of three unfinished works by Kafka. It was written in 1922 published in German posthumously 1926. The first translation into English was published 1946. 
> 
> Travelling: The Great Ocean Road along the Australian south coast was built between 1919 and ‘33 as an employment project for WWI vets. The section from Torquay to Lorne was finished in 1922. The part from Lorne to Apollo bay in 1933. I couldn’t find anything on the bit further west, near Warnambool, which is where the 12 Apostles are, so assumed it wasn’t finished then. According to Wikipedia the bit that was finished in 1930 had one lane for both directions and was considered a „formidable drive“. Sounded just like Phryne’s type of road to me ;-) I’m not exactly sure how long it would have taken to drive the distance, so I went from the train taking 15 hours, and assumed the car would take 20 but Phryne’s speeding so she made it in about 17 not including having to stop for rest.  
> The “new train line north”, commonly known as the Ghan, was also build in instalments. It reached Alice Springs 1929, but only got to Darwin in 2004 even though it had always been planned that it should cross the entire continent. Originally it operated every two weeks. Nowadays the whole distance (ca 2900km) takes about 49 hours. The train is incredibly long and occasionally extremely slow.  
> I also needed to mention that you have penguins as far north as Melbourne. Nowadays there is actually a colony living directly at St. Kilda pier. That’s one of my favourite things about Melbourne.


	18. A Heavy Numbness

Mrs Ali came with her brother, who functioned as an interpreter for most of the interview. Inspector Eder had warned them that she didn’t speak a lot of English despite living in Australia for almost ten years. The presence of her brother also seemed to calm her a little. Jack imagined it was reassuring to have someone you trusted by your side when you were interviewed by the police of what must be to all intents and purposes still a foreign country to her. She repeated her statement about her husband‘s whereabouts the night of his death. Friends from the meeting had confirmed that part of her story already. Yes, she had noticed he didn’t come home, and yes, that had been unusual but it wasn’t her place to question her husband’s actions.  
"Weren’t you worried about him?" Phryne asked.  
The woman’s answer was devout and chilling in its apathy:  
"Allāhu akbar ." God is great.  
Phryne couldn’t kept herself from quickly gazing towards Jack, only to find him catch her eyes and hold them for a moment, before he turned back to the witness in front of them. She followed his example, examining the woman carefully.  
Even Phryne Fisher didn’t speak all the languages on the globe and other than her last answer Mrs Ali didn’t speak Arabic but, Phryne thought, some form of Bengali, which made it difficult to read much into her answers. Since she couldn’t understand the woman directly, she tried to read her body language and the expressions of her face. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to read. Mrs Ali sat very still, wrapped tightly in a thick coat she wore over what were probably traditional garments as far as Phryne could see. Her hands were tightly folded but didn’t move. Her expression was sombre and stern, her answers short and coolly delivered. Someone who didn’t like talking to the police, at least not repeatedly.  
"Where there any other women, that you know of?" Jack asked carefully.  
Mrs Ali shook her head vigorously.  
"I don’t believe." her brother agreed, "Chanu was not, how do you say? Man who says one thing in public but does different alone?"  
"Hypocrite." Phryne supplied helpfully.  
He nodded.  
"Yes hypocrite. Chanu was not. He follows the laws of Allah."  
Miss Fisher nodded.  
"Was he ever violent?" she asked, “Did he ever force you?”  
The siblings exchanged a few words then Mrs Ali looked at her steadily.  
"Chanu husband." she said in English.  
Her tone suggested a degree of resignation mixed with indignation at having to point out something so obvious. She added a few words to her brother. His jaw clenched visibly, but he translated:  
"Husband is allowed."  
Inspector Eder sighed deeply.  
“I appreciate that you want to honour your husband, Mrs Ali, and that you might not want to speak ill of the dead, but we need you to tell us the truth and all of it, if you please.” he said gently, “We’re not asking these questions for the fun of it.”  
Again the two siblings exchanged a few words, but Mrs Ali decisively shook her head.  
“My sister has nothing more to say.” her brother affirmed.  
“Would you please impress on your sister that her husband was murdered. By a killer who has done away with two other men before.” Eder said tersely.  
For the first time there was something like a sparkle in the wife’s eyes. She raised them to meet the Inspector’s gaze.  
“Allāhu akbar.” she said calmly.  
For a moment no one said a word. Then Jack cleared his throat audibly.  
“Have you or your husband ever been to Melbourne?” he asked, as if the last part of the conversation had never happened. Mrs Ali looked a little surprised but at least she answered this question readily.  
“Chanu did business in Melbourne, last year.” her brother translated. “He go, two or three times. My sister never.”  
“Has he been there ever since?” Jack inquired.  
The woman shook her head.  
“Do you know anyone who works at the Melbourne woman’s hospital?”  
Another decisive headshake.  
“Have either of you ever seen Mr Ali with a women? White, dark hair, medium size. Maybe a customer or some other acquaintance?” Phryne asked gently.  
Both looked at them exchanged a look and Mrs Ali directed a question at her brother.  
“Who is this woman supposed to be?” he passed it on. “What has she to do with Chanu’s death?”  
“A woman of that description was seen with each of the other victims before they died. She is currently our main suspect.” Jack informed him and waited for him to translate.  
“I have never seen such a woman with my brother-in-law. She may have been a customer, we have many different people come in the shop, but I don’t remember anyone special. My sister says she does not sound familiar, but she doesn’t go out much. If that woman is not a member of the Islamic community she would not know her.”

When the siblings had left the detectives didn’t speak for a while.  
"Well, we found our motive." Jack noted finally, trying to sound calmer than he felt.  
Phryne’s fists clenched and he fought the urge to take her hands in his.  
"You think, he forced her." Eder stated rather than asked.  
Jack gave his colleague a look. "You don’t?"  
The Inspector shrugged.  
"Don’t really matter what I think. She’s right, as her husband he had the right. Marital privileges and all that."  
"That hardly makes it any less despicable." Phryne ground out.  
Eder shook his head.  
"No, if anything it makes it more so, but it also makes it perfectly legal."  
Jack intervened before Phryne could make a reply, possibly one that might have gotten her arrested.  
"I doubt our killer cares about legal or not. It certainly fits the pattern. A man who took advantage of a woman he had power over." he spelled out, „The question we still haven’t solved is how could anyone have known? Mrs Ali doesn’t strike me as a woman who would wash her dirty laundry in public."  
"The hospital?" Eder suggested, "Maybe she needed treatment. I’d bet my hat that he beat her, on top of the rape.”  
Jack nodded. “That would go with our previous theory.” he agreed, ignoring the nagging little voice in his head that pointed out that their previous theory hadn’t come up with much.  
“Speaking of, your Constable has wired back.” Eder told him, “Very diligent man, this Constable Collins.” He handed Jack a stack of telegrams.  
“Seems he has checked with all the hospitals in Melbourne. Or at least a great number of them.”  
“Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to have found anything.” Jack noted, skimming through the telegrams, handing them to Phryne when he was done. “Seems the only transfers in the last months have been to Sydney and one to Brisbane. Everything else was just changes within the city.” he sighed, “At least Hugh is back down to earth by now.” he muttered.  
“My Senior Constable became a father two days before I left town.” he explained to the other Inspector when he caught his curious look.  
Eder snickered. “Oh dear, hasn’t been much use then lately the lad?” he speculated.  
Jack harrumphed.  
“At least you’ll be missing out on the tired phase while you’re here.” his colleague added with a chuckle.  
Jack suppressed a groan. As happy as he was for Hugh, young fathers could be a nightmare to work with.  
“I’ll send people to see if Mrs Ali has been treated in hospital regularly.” Eder returned to the case.  
“Don’t stick to one.” Phryne suggested. “She might not have gone to the nearest one to her home. She might have gone somewhere where she wouldn’t be recognised.” Jack imagined he could almost hear the unspoken amendum ‘that’s what I did’. He had never understood the tendency of abuse victims to try and hide their injuries from those who were close to them. A part of him wondered if it was similar to the way he had tried to hide his war trauma from Rosie, a mixture of shame for not being able to deal with it himself, wanting to forget it ever happened and the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to help or even understand. But he knew he would never ask Phryne. It wasn’t his place to pick on that wound and he didn’t really need to know. It was enough to know that this was a pattern she recognised and he trusted her judgement in this situation. So he only nodded his agreement and gave her hand a quick squeeze after all.

To everybody’s great relief Jane came ambling into the station around noon, armed with a big picnic hamper from the hotel. She had breakfasted with Phryne and Jack, but had then opted for a quiet morning in her room to finish yesterday’s book. However, now she seemed anxious to start exploring the new town she found herself in.  
Eder laughed heartedly when he saw her with the basket.  
“You’re being better taken care of than most of us whose families live here, Robinson.” he exclaimed without a hint of envy.  
Jack could hardly argue with that, not that he was given the chance to.  
“Oh, I forgot yesterday,” Jane realised and started digging through the hamper, “Mr Butler said to give these to the stations tea kitchen. As an ice-breaker, he called it.” she told the stunned members of the constabulary around her.  
“There it is.” triumphantly she held up a biscuit tin and handed it to Inspector Eder.  
“They’re a few days old because we brought them from Melbourne, but they’ll still be pretty good.” she added a little apologetically.  
Jack, rather unsuccessfully, tried to hide a smirk.  
“Mr B’s ginger biscuits?” he asked.  
Jane nodded, grinning.  
“Seems I’m not the only one being taken care of.” he commented, a little wistfully at the thought of Mr Butler’s incomparable cooking he was going to miss out on for the foreseeable future.  
“And I’m sure there is more than enough for us to share lunch with you, Chief Inspector,” Phryne suggested brightly, “if in turn we could commandeer your office for that purpose. It doesn’t seem quite dry enough for a picnic in the park just yet.”  
Jack’s eyebrows moved upwards a little.  
“You’ve never asked before commandeering my office.” he remarked.  
She gave him a wicked grin.  
“But I never have commandeered your office, Jack.”  
The eyebrows moved higher.  
“And what would you call what you’ve been doing?”  
“Working with you, of course.” she replied innocently.  
“That involves stealing my biscuits and using my desk as a foot stool?”  
“Naturally,” she utterly failed to suppress a smile, “but I’ve never brought other people into your office for lunch.”  
He let out a huff. “That’ll be the day.”  
Inspector Eder hid a smile in his moustache and opened his office door wide to Jane and Miss Fisher.  
“Seems like a fair deal to me.” he said, “But I have to insist that I add my lunch to the menu, otherwise my wife will be disappointed.” he added with a wink.

Lunch passed in companionable conversation far removed from rapists and wife beating husbands. Jane bombarded Inspector Eder with questions about things to do and see in Adelaide, the University and the book shops the town had to offer. The detective seemed happy to answer all of them, apparently feeling rather avuncular towards the girl. In turn he asked about her schooling and the books she liked to read. He raised a surprised eyebrow when he learned that Jack was teaching her German while she attempted to improve his French in return. He pointed out that Adelaide and the surrounding towns had strong German ancestry and she would probably have no trouble finding people speaking the language if she was interested in practicing.  
“I’m not sure we can offer much French, I’m afraid.” he apologised.  
“I suppose I’ll have to live with that.” Jack replied with a smirk.

The food, including Mrs Eder’s sandwiches, ham and cheese as Jack noted happily, disappeared in no time. Phryne noted with amusement that the tea at this station was just about as horrid as the one at City South, even though Jack maintained theirs had improved dramatically since Hugh had started stepping out with Dot. He suspected Mr Butler had given the young man one or the other tip. Phryne just gave him a sceptical look and told Jane to make a note to bring beverages, too, next time. They just finished storing the plates and cutlery back in the basket, when a woman knocked on the office door.  
“Sorry to interrupt, Sir,” she said politely, “Sergeant Dorn needs your go ahead for the search in the Gilberton theft.”  
She held out a sheet of paper for Eder. The Inspector’s face lit up.  
“Ah, just who I wanted you to meet.” he exclaimed, taking the paper and throwing it on his newly cleared desk. Then he turned to his lunch guests.  
“Meet Constable Christine Maar. Constable these are Miss Fisher, Miss Ross and Detective Inspector Robinson from Melbourne. Miss Fisher and the Inspector are here to help us with the Ali investigation.”  
Constable Maar turned out to be a stout woman in her late thirties with brown hair and sharp eyes. She didn’t wear a uniform, much to Jane’s disappointment, but a dark sensible ensemble of the kind Dot would have fully approved of. She regarded the three newcomers carefully as she shook their hands with a polite smile.  
“You help with the investigation, Miss Fisher?” she asked intrigued, observing the elegantly dressed woman with the hat perfectly colour coordinated with both her black and white embroidered coat and outfit underneath. “Are you a police officer?”  
“No. I’m a private detective. I’m afraid I’m not much one for rules. Or paperwork for that matter.” Phryne replied affably.  
Jack hid a snort by emptying the last bit of his tea, but wasn’t successful enough for Phryne not to notice and throw him a challenging look.  
“But I happened to find the first victim and I’ve been assisting Inspector Robinson with the investigation.” she added pointedly.  
Maar nodded understanding. Other than the quick look over Phryne’s outfit, apart from the sheer black blouse and the trousers it was pretty demure today, she was sure to hide any judgement for the other woman.  
Jane was instantly ready to bombard the woman police officer with questions, but Eder pre-empted her:  
“Maar I need you to check with the hospitals if they treated Mrs Ali.” he ordered, “Start with the Sisters of Mary and the Queen Vic, then the Adelaide Hospital and the Wakefield. Ask around for our mysterious suspect as well, Inspector Robinson can give you the description. Maybe someone recognises her. I doubt she works in any of them but maybe she’s a patient or has relatives who are.”  
The constable nodded and accepted the file from Jack.  
“Anything else, Sir?”  
“Ask if they had any transfers from Melbourne lately.” Phryne suggested. “I know you already checked for personnel transfers, but what about patients?” she explained, not failing to notice the way Maar’s eyes flickered to her superior.  
Eder shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.” he agreed.  
The constable clenched her jaw a little.  
“They might not be forthcoming with patient information, Sir.” she noted.  
He sighed. “Try your best.” he advised, “I’ll call the prosecutor’s office, just in case, see if we can get a warrant, but I doubt there is much we can do without any firm evidence.”  
Maar nodded.”„I’ll see what I can do, Sir.” she stated with determination.  
“Miss Fisher,” she turned to the guests, “Miss Ross, Inspector Robinson. It was nice to meet you.” she said with a small smile.  
“Likewise.” Phryne beamed. “I’m always interested in meeting a woman working in a man’s domain. I must pick your brain about it some time.”  
“I’m sure we’ll see more of each other over the next days.” Jack said warmly, if more formally than his partner.  
Maar’s mouth quirked up into an amused smirk. “I’m sure, Inspector.”

“Can we have her over to dinner some time?” Jane asked as soon as the Constable had left the station on her errand. The young woman was equally excited about the idea of quizzing a female police officer about her experiences as her foster mother.  
“We absolutely will, if I have any say in it.” Phryne confirmed instantly.  
“You know she’s not a zoo animal, right?” Jack tried to tamper their excitement a little, “She might not enjoy being treated as a curiosity.”  
“Not a curiosity, Jack,” Phryne scolded, “an extraordinary woman, worth learning from and about. But you’re right,” she acquiesced, “it won’t do to make her feel like she’s being interrogated.”  
“She was wearing a wedding ring,” Jane observed, “maybe we could invite her husband as well and maybe the inspector and his wife. When you solved the case for example.” she suggested.  
Phryne’s face lit up with glee.  
“Very good idea Jane.” she praised, “And very well observed. Would you be up for that Inspector?” she turned to Eder with a beguiling smile.  
He chuckled. “Any good copper will never say no to being fed in good company, Miss Fisher.” he replied.  
“Unfortunately we need to solve the case first,” Jack pointed out, “and that means we have to get back to work every now and then.”  
Phryne sighed at his inconvenient pragmatism.  
“I’m afraid Jack is right.” she admitted, addressing Jane, “Will you be alright on your own?”  
The girl nodded “Of course. I wanted to have a look at the university anyway and I wanted to write to Dot once I’ve got an idea of the town. At what time do you want me to be back?” she asked.  
Her foster mother checked her watch.  
“Let’s meet here again at half past five, then we can return to the hotel to get changed and head out for dinner, alright?” she proposed.  
Jane nodded in agreement.  
“Alright. Have fun.” she added with a cheeky grin.  
“Do you have everything you need?” Phryne pressed before the girl skipped out of the station.  
“I’ve got money for a cab if I get lost and everything else I need.” Jane replied with a light tap on her upper thigh.  
Phryne grinned. “Good girl.”  
After Jane had left Jack gave Phryne a long look.  
“Has Jane started to take to your particular brand of defensive accessories?” he asked.  
She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.  
“She’s a sixteen year old girl who has travelled the world. Of course I taught her to be prepared, Jack. There is only so much you can do with Judo.”  
He nodded. “Good to know.”  
“Are you sure a girl like her should be wandering the streets alone, in a strange town?” a young Constable voiced his concern. Jack noticed it was the same who had caught his attention yesterday.  
He shrugged. “She’ll be fine.”  
And to his own mid surprise he truly believed that. Jane was smart and if Phryne said she had taught her to be prepared, the dagger in her garter was probably not the only measure she had taken to assure her ward‘s safety. If anyone could look after themselves on the streets, it was Jane. The look Phryne gave him and the light squeeze of his arm where her hand was wrapped around it told him she approved of his acceptance of Jane’s independence.

After Jane had gone the three detectives reconvened in Inspector Eder’s office to plan their further strategy. They still didn’t have much information, even if Constable Maar could confirm that their suspect had been seen in one of the hospitals. Unless anyone could give them a hint towards her identity they still didn’t have much to go on.  
“I could still go undercover as a working girl to try and find out something about the killer. She has to find her victims somehow.” Phryne offered.  
“Except in Adelaide our killer hasn’t any connections to prostitution that we know of.” Jack disagreed.  
“But I could go into the hospitals and say the same thing happened to me as to Franny Cary.” she pushed his concerns aside.  
“For that to work there is only the little issue that you haven’t been raped, Miss Fisher.” Jack ground out, “A fact that will certainly raise questions during a medical examination.”  
“We can make it look like I have.” she suggested.  
“No, we cannot.” Jack replied sternly.  
For a moment their eyes locked and Eder had the impression that a whole conversation took place between those two pairs of eyes. To his surprise Miss Fisher was the first one to look away.  
“Fine.” she pouted, “You come up with a better idea.”  
But Eder couldn’t help thinking that she sulked more on principle than with any real conviction. Robinson on the other hand was seriously upset. Not that he could blame him. The idea of doing anything that would make the woman you loved look like she had been violated, even the idea of her pretending to have been violated was nothing any decent man would consider with anything but horror. And he was starting to suspect that Jack Robinson was more than just a decent man.  
“It’s probably too risky anyway.” he chimed in, trying to ease the tension the discussion had created, “We can’t be certain the murderer hasn’t followed the investigation in Melbourne. She might recognise you.”  
Phryne sighed dramatically.  
“I can’t even remember the last time I undercover for a case.” she complained.  
“Southampton.” Jack said without a moment’s hesitation. His voice was a few degrees colder than normal.  
A smile spread over her face.  
“Oh yes. That case was so much more fun.”  
“It can‘t all be fun and games Miss Fisher.” Jack reprimanded her.  
He was still wound up about her thoughtless suggestion to stage her own rape. She didn’t seem to notice.  
“Too right, Jack, but wouldn’t the world be such a better place if it were.” she said with a seductive smile.  
“We would both be out of a work.” he joked, trying to get over his anxiety.  
He understood that she tended to make light of serious topics, more than he sometimes thought appropriate. It was her way of coping, he knew, not to take things seriously. He could see the benefit sometimes, and she had certainly helped him not to take every thing quite so serious himself. But with this case and since their fight, he had been keeping a closer eye on her and he could tell that she was still a little off. He was of course also fully aware that she would deny it with her last breath if he remarked on that fact. Still, he worried.  
Ever since they had found Roger Hollinghursts body he had worried about her. The memory of their fight and how distraught she had been afterwards was still all too clear in his memory. She seemed to have recovered from that but her brassy suggestion they ‘make it look like’ she had been raped proved to him that she was still frayed, even if she pretended that all was perfectly normal. This case was hitting far too close to home for her, but he also knew all too well that that was exactly why she would never step back from it. It frightened him more than just a little but he feared that she would feel threatened again if he tried to protect her too much, which scared him almost more. So he tried to swallow down his anger at her flippancy, reminding himself that it was a cover for her own frayed nerves. Instead he tried to be what she needed from him, be it to keep her out of trouble as much as humanly possible, support her through the trouble she wouldn’t avoid, or simply remind her of better days, more fun investigation. It f a difficult task sometimes.  
The afternoon did nothing to improve either of their moods. The evidence and statements they had didn’t lead them anywhere and none of them could come up with a decent plan to change that. Constable Maar came back three hours later with nothing much.  
“Several nurses at the Wakefield recognised Mrs Ali.” she reported. “They’ve been treating her there several times, three in the last four months, all for various lacerations on her face and upper body. Cuts and bruises, a broken finger, cracked ribs, a light concussion. She never gave her real name or said how she came by those injuries. They couldn’t confirm rape, because she never let them examine her there, but Judy, the matron, said she would have been surprised if that wasn‘t the case.”  
“You know the matron?” Phryne observed.  
Maar nodded tiredly. “As a woman police officer, I mostly deal with domestic cases, assault and prostitution. I know the matrons and most nurses in all hospitals in the city.” she explained. “Unfortunately no one recognised our mystery women. Or rather most of them could name ten women that would match that description. But nothing distinct unfortunately.” she continued her report.  
In the end the appointed time for Jane to come back to the station arrived and they reluctantly resolved to pick things up again tomorrow, hopefully with a fresh pair of eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The law that framed marital rape as exception to the law against rape in Britain was not overturned until 1991. Once again I’m assuming laws in Britain and Australia were largely the same, at least in 1930.  
> All hospitals mentioned are real. They existed in 1930 and still do (most under a slightly different name) today.


	19. Build an Empty Tomb

They met up with Jane as agreed and headed back to the Hotel to freshen up before dinner. When Jack knocked at the door to Phryne’s room half an hour later, Jane opened.  
Her face lit up when she saw Jack.  
"Help me" she mouthed before she turned and announced to Phryne "It’s Jack."  
"Ah, speak of the devil."  
Phryne jumped to her feet and sauntered over to Jack who had made it inside the room with an increasingly confused look on his face.  
"We’ve been invited to a dinner party next week." she declared and, throwing Jane a warning look, added, "All of us."  
Jane sent a pleading look to Jack, who could only lift his shoulders apologetically. If Phryne had set her mind to something it would take a lot more than either of them to prevent her from getting her way.  
"They’ll just be staring at me weirdly." the girl complained.  
"Nonsense," Phryne stated, "they’ll be admiring the formidable young woman they have the pleasure of meeting."  
Jane held her eyes unwaveringly and utterly unimpressed.  
"Fine, yes, they’ll be staring." Miss Fisher caved, "But Gloria Grady is a dear old friend, who’s been wanting to meet you for years now and I really have no good excuse not to introduce her to my daughter and my fiancé while I’m in Adelaide. And neither have you." she noted pointedly.  
"Well, I do." Jack intervened, "Since I’m not actually here on holiday, I’ll have to work." he said, trying very hard to hide just how much that pleased him. Jane shot him a murderous look. "Traitor." she muttered.  
Jack merely shrugged innocently. He did feel sympathy for Jane but not enough to not gladly jump at any excuse he could make for himself. While he had met many of Phryne’s friends and most of them where indeed fascinating people, Phryne Fisher did not surround herself with anyone dull if she could help it, a society dinner was still not something he would spend his time at if he had the choice.  
"It’s on a Sunday; surely you’ll have a day off now and then, Jack." Phryne pouted but he could see the sly grin wanting to break out.  
"I haven’t talked to Chief Inspector Eder about it yet." he admitted warily.  
"Well, it’s settled then." Phryne beamed. "We’re all going.  
“On that note, where shall we have dinner tonight?” she added with flap of her lashes.  
“You want to go out for dinner?” Jack asked surprised. Only now he managed to take in the outfit she had changed into. It certainly didn’t look like a cosy night in, so much was certain. As she grabbed her blue velvet warp with the fur trimming he began to understand just how her luggage had been so full.  
“I want to go out, full stop.” she replied, “While the hotel offers excellent food, the fact is we came all this way to see something of a different city, so I’d suggest we go exploring for a bit and eat out. Chinatown maybe?” she grinned wickedly. “They do have one here. It’s not as old or as impressive as the one in Melbourne, but they should still have nice food. What do you think, Jack? It’s been a while since you had the chance to improve on your chop stick skills.”  
The look he gave her was thoroughly unamused.  
“I’ve seen a bunch of hotels and restaurants on the north side.” Jane piped in, “Some of them looked quite nice.”  
“Sounds perfect, let’s do that.” Jack immediately agreed, ignoring the grin on Phryne’s face.  
“Oh where is your sense of adventure, Jack.” she pouted.  
“Thoroughly sated by spending every day of my life with you.” he deadpanned.  
She gave him a smug smile in return as she wrapped her hand around his arm. “Lead the way, Jane.”

Dinner was excellent. It turned out Jane had a very good eye for restaurants. While the detectives had spent the day trying to get a better grip on the case, she had started to explore the new town. She was positively raving about the university, which had a lovely campus by all accounts, and especially the State Library.  
“It is stunningly beautiful.” she gushed, “And they have books...” She sighed dreamily.  
Phryne shot her a wary look.  
“Please don’t tell me you consider moving to Adelaide to go to university.” she said.  
From what she had seen so far the South Australian capital was a nice enough town, but being a true born Melbourne girl and having spend the majority of her life in the great metropolises of the world, be it Melbourne, London or Paris, she couldn’t quite take the idea of living in a small town like Adelaide serious.  
Jane gave her a mischievous grin.  
“I don’t know,” she said slyly, “they have a very good history of enrolling female students. There is even a woman on the University Counsel. And the campus really is nice.” she teased.  
“They also have more trees than buildings within a mile radius from town hall.” Phryne pointed out.  
“That’s a bad thing?” Jane laughed.  
“We’ve only arrived yesterday,” she assured her guardian, “don’t worry, I’m not going to jump ship that quickly.”  
“It’s good that you’re considering your options.” Jack encouraged her.  
He wasn’t any more likely to loose his heart to this city than Phryne, nor was he overly keen on Jane leaving town again so soon. To his own surprise he thoroughly enjoyed the way they had been living the last couple of weeks since both him and Jane had officially moved in at Wardlow. He found he would be sad to see her move on again. But his first impression of Adelaide was generally positive and he wouldn’t mind coming to visit more often, although preferably without the serial murderer.  
Jane laughed as Phryne shot Jack a look that called him a traitor for the second time that evening. He deftly changed the topic by asking the girl about her plans for the coming days.  
“Well, someone told me there’d be bookshops in Adelaide.” she teased, “I’ve seen one around the corner from here, but it didn’t look very interesting. Don’t think I’ve seen a single novel on display I haven’t red before and the non-fiction section was mostly legal and spiritualistic stuff.” She shrugged dismissively.  
Jack bit down a comment on how that didn’t exactly count as non-fiction and instead promised to ask around in the hotel or at the station for some recommendations.  
“You know you need to come along though, right?” Jane insisted.  
“I suppose it was good we didn’t take the plane after all,” Phryne commented dryly, “the Moth would never have taken the weight.”  
“But we could take the Hispano to see some of the area,” Jane suggested, “I hear they make good wine around here.” she added enticingly.  
Jack hid his grin behind his own wine glass. It was astounding just how much Jane was starting to become like Phryne. The lady detective rolled her eyes, but sounded a little more amendable when she said “Well, I did take you here to see something of the country, didn’t I?”  
They continued to debate potential sight seeing targets until they had finished their meals and the waiter brought the bill.  
“Don’t even think about paying for us, Jack Robinson.” Phryne threatened when she noticed Jack’s hand slipping into his coat pocket. Upon the start of their relationship they had agreed that, whenever they ate out they would split the bill for the sake of both their prides, with the exception of some special occasions. But there was a certain undefined quality to Jane being there, since the girl had only been back in Australia for a bit over a month and they hadn’t had the change to eat out a lot as a family yet. However Phryne didn’t feel like allowing this to set a precedent. Jack rolled his eyes.  
“You wouldn’t even let me pay for my own clothes when I came to London,” he argued, “now that you’ve come all this way after me, the least I can do is pay for one dinner, Phryne. You still have the hotel and whatever else you plan on doing here.”  
She made a face, but decided to let it go this time. She was aware the conversation with Mrs Ali had left her more irritable than she liked to admit. Taking it out on Jack, or Jane for that matter, was unfair and she tried to keep herself from doing it as much as she could. And it was only one dinner after all.  
“Fine.” she grumbled, “But don’t make a habit out of it.”  
Jack took a victory where he could get it. He had already noticed she was in a bit of a mood tonight and had a vague idea why. So he simply paid quietly and took his women back to the hotel without further argument.  
When they arrived he sent them up ahead and took a detour to the hotel bar, where he acquired a bottle of decent whiskey and two glasses. When he arrived at their floor he had every intention to follow Phryne to her room, only to find her waiting in front of his. Her face lit up at the sight of the fortification he brought.  
“Oh, I do love a man with a plan, Jack Robinson.” she stated almost gleeful.  
He cocked his head in acquiescence.  
“I thought we might need some.” he stated and handed her the bottle while he unlocked the door.

The two rooms were almost identical in their layout. Phryne’s was a bit larger, as he had noticed the previous day, but his had a huge window looking out over the street and a bit of park on the other side that was, during the day, covered with a busy construction site. Now the site was abandoned and looked a little eerie in the dim light of the street lamps.  
“They’re building a memorial for the war.” Phryne said, as if she had red his mind.  
Jack nodded. These things were being commissioned all over the country, probably all over the world, he suspected. His way to work now led him past the construction on St Kilda Road for a similar, or rather a much bigger one, every day. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of them. It seemed a strange idea that a few tons of rock, however artfully sculptured, could capture the memory of those years of absolute hell and no memorial in the world could do justice to all the men who had lost their lives in those trenches. On the other hand he was aware that the war was over more than ten years by now and many people, people like Dot and Hugh, who were too young to have experienced the war the way he and Phryne had, were already old enough to have children themselves. Children like little Mary Collins would know the war only from stories told by parents and grandparents. And while Jack often wished he could forget he had ever been to war, it felt important that these stories kept on being told.  
“It feels strange to see a monument built for people you have known yourself, doesn’t it?” Phryne observed, as she joined him by the window, handing him a tumbler. Once again she seemed to know what he had been thinking about without the need for him to tell her.  
“But they deserve not to be forgotten.” he said.  
She wrapped her arm around his and extracted his hand from his pocket to intertwine their fingers.  
“To remembrance then,” she raised her glass, “no matter how painful it might be.”  
They clinked glasses and both drank for a moment in silence.  
“Are you alright?” Jack asked after a while.  
Phryne leaned against him and shook her head.  
“No. As much as I hate to admit it, you may have been right. This case...” she broke of and buried her nose in his sleeve for a moment.  
“Please don’t ask me to stop investigating Jack.” she said quietly.  
“As if you’d listen to me.” he replied gently.  
He let go of her hand in favour of wrapping his arm around her.  
“It’s just... these women, Jack, they deserve remembrance, too. It doesn’t matter, if they weren’t killed. We’re already too late to help them. This is the only thing I can do. Someone should know and recognise what they’ve been put through. They deserve to be heard and listened to.”  
Jack’s heart was aching for her. A part of him wanted to shout that it didn’t have to be her, but he knew it didn’t matter. She was a part of this, just like he and the other police officers here and in Melbourne. They were the ones who had to bear witness, like she said, no matter how painful it might be, because like with the war, they were still the lucky ones. They were here alive and unscarred, at least physically, and remembering, listening, witnessing that pain was the least they could do.  
“We’ll listen.” he promised her.  
She raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were bright and big, shining up at him in the dim light.  
“I love you, Jack Robinson,” she said matter-of-factly, “you’re a remarkable man.”  
“Only trying to keep up with you.” he replied with a small smile.  
They turned away from the window and took their seat on the chaise in front of the fireplace. Phryne folded her legs under her and cuddled into Jack’s side. They kept nursing their drinks in silence for a while, but he could feel she was still tense, reeling from something that hadn‘t been said yet. He didn’t to push her though, knowing she would come out with it when she was ready.  
Phryne could not settle down, her mind was still too full, too reeling from the last couple of days; or even the last few hours. She knew there was something she would need to talk to Jack about eventually. Their fight had it made clear to her that the past wasn’t as concluded for her as she had thought and Jack was, to her own surprise, the only person in the world she felt she would ever tell about these things, knowing he would understand fully and not judge her in any way. It had also shown her how much damage it could do to their partnership if she didn’t tell him and that frightened her more than any ghosts from the past.  
“You asked me a question a while ago,” she said finally, “about Paris.”  
When she pulled back she could see the moment of confusion on his face, before he remembered. It hadn’t been so much a question as an expression of his admiration for her strength. He had marvelled at her ability to throw herself into the libertine life she led after her relationship with DuBois, when it would have seemed so much more natural to recoil from a man’s touch and to fear being that exposed to a stranger. Yet she never seemed to be, quite the opposite in fact and he could hardly fathom how she had achieved that. Especially after seeing how deeply affected she still was by this chapter of her past.  
“Yes?” he answered tentatively.  
He didn’t say any more, just waited for her to say what she needed to say. Phryne took a deep breath. She sat up, kneeling on the chaise and looking at him. This was difficult for her and normally she wouldn’t want to talk about it, preferring instead to burry the memories and shutting them off in a deep hidden corner of her mind. Smile, dance and forget. She was so much better at that. But at the moment she felt like that corner was already broken open and weeping like an old would that had never healed properly. Poking at it went against all her instincts, but her rational mind told her that Jack would need to understand her fears and pain, so he could understand her reaction to this case and these situations. She needed him to know that none of it was because of anything he had done. There was also a tiny part of her, a part she was still in the habit of ignoring, that suggested that if she told Jack everything he would find a way to make it better, even if it was just telling her in that soothing voice of his that she had survived and reminding her to not be afraid of shadows once more. So she took his hand to anchor herself to the here and now, to him and willed the words to come:  
“Jack,” she asked seriously, “will you listen to me?”  
Phrasing her request in the words of their earlier conversation she acknowledged how much she was asking of him, but also how much she was trusting him with this. And what she wanted from him: Don’t try to fix it, you can’t; just listen.  
He sat up a little straighter and turned towards her, focusing his entire attention on her before he nodded almost imperceptibly. She took another deep breath, steeling herself and began to talk:  
"It took some time. Being with other men, after René. After I ran away from him, there was a time when I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. In the end it became about control; about feeling in control of my own body again, about not letting myself be controlled again. And about not letting him control me, by ruining this for me. So sleeping with other men, in the beginning, was about proving to myself that I was truly free of him, of everyone, free to do whatever I wanted, that I wasn’t being controlled by anyone other than myself."  
She took a deep breath. "That he violated me wasn’t the worst part. It was that he could. That he could do this to me, just like he could do anything he wanted to me and get away with it and that I felt I could do nothing about it. He didn’t just control my body, but every part of my life. Sometimes it was like I couldn’t even breathe without his permission. All because he loved me so much, because he wanted me so much" her voice grew sarcastic, "he couldn’t bear not to have me, because I was the only one who understood him."  
Her eyes were staring unseeingly far away into the past, brimming with a pain long past and yet never far beneath the surface. But her fingers were tightly wrapped around his, so he gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb to remind her of the present where the bastard DuBois was rotting six feet under ground and she was free and strong despite him.  
"I had to break out of that,” she continued, “do all the things he would have never let me do, just to prove to myself that I could. I don‘t feel like this anymore now. I learned to enjoy it for its own sake again, but in the beginning that was how I did it. How I could do it."  
Her gaze returned to the present, when she felt Jack’s hand tenderly squeeze hers. Her eyes found his, so full of love it made her heart stutter, because it was a different kind of love than the one she had just described. It was a love that gave and gave, and wanted nothing but to share and contribute to her happiness, and she could see her own pain reflected in his face.  
"Phryne," he said sincerely, his voice a little strangled, but warm and genuine, "never marry me."  
And her heart threatened to give out this time in earnest. How could she not love a man who understood so well the things she didn’t say? How could she do anything but kiss him until they were both laughing and crying and holding on to each other like they never wanted to let go again?  
"No promises." she whispered and kissed him some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : I’m taking a guess on the existence of a Chinatown in Adelaide in 1930. There were Chinese immigrants coming in to South Australia during the Victorian gold rush, when they weren’t allowed to immigrate directly to Victoria but it’s hard to say how many of them actually stayed in SA. Chinatown Adelaide as it is now only grew in the second half of the 20th century (read after the abandoning of the White Australia Policy). So if there was a Chinese community there then, it was small. But I really couldn’t pass up the chance for banter.  
> The University of Adelaide was the first in Australia to admit women on equal terms; Its university counsel was also the first in Australia to elect a woman, Helen Mayo, in 1914 (a position she held for 46 years).  
> The WWI memorial on North Terrace in Adelaide was built between 1928 and ‘31.


	20. It Will be All Too Long a Wait

They had agreed Jack would accompany Jane to the little bookshop he had discovered in Hindleystreet in his lunch break the previous day. Another reason was that the local cops had unanimously stated this wasn’t the kind of area in which an adolescent girl should be out alone. In broad daylight it didn’t appear to be as bad as it had sounded, but Jack was a seasoned policeman and could spot the tell tale signs. Jane seemed to be blissfully oblivious and eager to explore the uncharted depths of _Mitchell’s book shop on Hindley_.  
The man behind the counter, presumably Mitchell himself, barely looked up and nodded a greeting as they entered. Jane instantly dashed off to explore the corner that held the most interest for her, while Jack strolled along the shelves more leisurely, looking if something caught his eye. There was a significantly large section on architecture, as well as one on philosophy that kept him occupied for a while, occasionally looking up to keep an eye on Jane. She had headed straight for the foreign language section and he was curious what she would bring back as he moved on to the novels himself. The selection on Zane Grey was rather meagre; instead they had an ample supply of Dickens. Jack assumed they didn’t sell very well. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t too keen on the over boarding prose either.  
"Look at this, Jack." Jane held out a book to him with a wide grin. "Think you’d like that?"  
Jack looked at the cover she held in his face  
"Winnetou?"  
He couldn’t repress a smirk himself.  
"I actually have that." he stated.  
Jane’s eyes widened. "You do?"  
"It was one of my dad’s favourites." he told her, "He used to read it to me when I was a lad. My mother was convinced this is where my penchant for adventure novels stems from. Did wonders putting me to sleep apparently." he grinned.  
Jane’s eyes were wide as saucers. Jack never spoke about his father, at least no to her. The idea of the Inspector, to her in every way the picture of a functioning adult, as a child being red to seemed completely unfathomable.  
"This same edition?" she asked finally after having regained some of her footing.  
Jack checked the publication date. "The very same."  
"But, it’s in German." she pointed out before her eyes widened even more. "Wait, your father was German? Is that why you can speak it?" she asked excitedly.  
Jack shook his head. "My grandmother was. But she refused to ‘let her descendants get away’ without at least a basic knowledge of the language. And she could be quite frightening."  
Jane couldn’t hide a grin. "Sounds a lot like Aunt Prudence." she said.  
Jack tilted his head as he thought about it.  
"There is a certain similarity," he admitted with a smirk, "but my grandmother was a farmer’s wife. She didn’t care much for social graces and I think she probably could have carried your Aunt Prudence on her back on top of a sack of flour."  
Jane’s mouth dropped open. "She must have been strong." was all she could get out.  
Jack nodded. "A fact I never appreciated quite as much as that one time she caught me burning holes in dry leaves with my grandfather’s reading glasses." he winched at the memory, "I couldn’t sit properly for days."  
The expression on Jane’s face flickered between utter astonishment, hysterical laughter and sympathy.  
"Why was it so bad of you to play with the glasses?" she asked finally.  
Jack shrugged. "It was dry season and hadn’t rained in weeks. If I had been less than careful for just a moment I could have set the whole farm alight."  
"So she was right." Jane observed.  
Jack grinned. "I can’t remember a single time when she wasn’t." he admitted.  
"She still shouldn’t have beaten you." she insisted, "You didn’t know."  
"Ignorance is no excuse before the law." he pointed out, "I wouldn’t dare to imagine what she would have done if I had known."  
"You wouldn’t have done it if you had known." Jane stated, "You’re not stupid."  
"I don’t know, I was only six."  
He wasn’t sure the look of utter disbelieve Jane gave him referred to him being stupid or him being six years old.  
"Is it strange that I tell you about this?" he asked, suddenly a little insecure.  
She shook her head.  
"No, it’s ... interesting. It’s just strange to imagine you as a boy." A smile stole onto her face.  
"One of my friends in school in France said once," she hesitated, running through the words in her head, "‘It’s weird learning that your parents had a life before you were born.’ I think what she meant was, that it’s strange to think of them as being young and not together, having grandparents and being children. I think it’s something like that." she blushed a little, but Jack nodded understandingly.  
He had had a similar feeling about the past of his parents. Maybe children always felt that their parents only started to exist when they were born and everything that happened before was by default a strange country and not quite real. He realised with a start that Jane had just more or less referred to him as her parent.  
He cleared his suddenly dry throat and decided to change the subject.  
"You did do that catalogue for Phryne’s books, did you?" he asked.  
Jane nodded.  
"Good, then we can get her something she doesn’t already have."

In the end the haul had been less than Phryne had feared. Apparently they had restrained themselves, so Jane only came back with ten books between the two of them. Jack had taken her to the street corner next to the hotel before he returned to the police station. That gave Jane the chance to gleefully spread out the intelligence she had learned about their Inspector. Phryne’s eyes gleamed with joy.  
"He never told me." she exclaimed, "Devious man."  
"He never talks about his family much, does he?" Jane observed thoughtfully. "I guess I always kinda figured he didn’t have any."  
"He doesn’t." Phryne confirmed, "At least not in Australia, as far as I know. He said as much when we were writing the guest list for the engagement party. I think his father and uncle died when he was still a boy, but he never talks about any of them much. And his mother died a few years after the war. He only has a few cousins in England, but they’re not particularly close."  
"Well, he has us now." Jane decided.  
"He absolutely has." Phryne agreed. "And we will get each and every last of his secrets out of him in time."

Jack would have never admitted it, but this part of the investigation chafed even more than not being able to find any evidence. At least in Melbourne he had been kept busy doing the daily paperwork and supervising his constables. He had never appreciated just how much time of his day went into doing things that weren’t case related at all. Usually he was annoyed by all the administrative chores, signing off on reports and shift roasters, reviewing the work of his subordinate officers, not to mention writing his own reports for Russell Street. Normally he’d resent the amount of time these things kept him stuck behind his desk and away from his actual investigation. But now, here in Adelaide where he had to do none of that (at least until he got back, his desk would probably be groaning under the weight by then), he suddenly found himself with nothing to do most of the time. He rewrote his case reports several dozen times and reviewed the files until he could have recited them verbatim, but similar to the two cases in Melbourne there were simply no more leads to follow. All avenues they had had been thoroughly followed down to their inevitable dead ends. He had contemplated returning home, since there was obviously nothing more he could do here, but Wolfe and the South Australian Commissioner had decided he should stay on another week. They shared their investigators’ conviction that the killer wasn’t done yet and would in time strike again. Judging from her previous frequency it wouldn’t take long for the next murder and then they wanted Jack to be there from the start.  
To Jack’s admittedly dwindling surprise Eder seemed to completely second that tactic. Jack had already begun to realise that the Adelaidean Inspector was remarkably unpretentious, not a common attitude among senior officers in his experience. But Eder seemed to genuinely only want this case to be solved, not matter by whom or how. He just wanted it off his desk, not that Jack could blame him for that. But he didn’t seem to be harbouring any hope of advancing his career on a high profile case like that, which was unusual to say the least.  
So Jack stayed and they waited for the next victim and hopefully for the murderer to make a mistake. It was all they could do at this stage and Jack hated every second of it.  
It felt wrong to sit on his arse and wait for another body to drop instead of doing his damndest to stop it, even if he knew logically there was nothing else he could to. In the meantime he was going stark raving mad without having anything to occupy him. It did occasionally occur to him that he was placed in a position that was usually Phryne’s and that he took it with just as little grace as she normally did.  
Phryne was just as anxious as he, but in a turn of things that he tried not to think about, she currently was the one who had more things to distract herself with. She could spend her mornings in bed and her days with Jane exploring the city and the surrounding hills. Jack’s sense of duty, however, propelled him to show up at the station every morning where he would, for lack of a better word, lurk around, until Eder would loose his patience and send him home for the day, sometimes before Phryne had even gotten up.  
“You’re being paid simply for being here, enjoy it, Mate.” he recommended more than once.  
Jack tried. The excursion to the bookshop had been one attempt top fill the time and one day he joined the women on their outing to Barossa Valley, the local vine region. Jane seemed to enjoy herself but Jack and Phryne found themselves eerily reminded of the events of Maiden Creek, a story their daughter drew out of them to the last detail over dinner.  
“You were lucky that the doctor and the Sergeant decided to come clean in the end.” she noted.  
“They couldn’t well kill us in front of the entire village.” Phryne said airily.  
“Yes, we were.” Jack agreed. Things could have gotten terribly sideways on that day. More so than he allowed himself to think of.  
The trip inspired Jane to intensify her German studies, however, even to a point where she was considering the possibility that Jack might not have been entirely wrong about his teaching strategy.  
Jack, too, spent more of his free time studying, happily accepting Phryne’s help which irritated Jane to no end, because her foster mother completely ignored her carefully crafted curriculum. Instead she taught Jack words and phrases he found very distracting and that made him and his young teacher blush heavily, which in turn made Phryne laugh hysterically. Such sessions frequently ended with Jane stomping out of the room yelling that they were completely impossible. Jack suspected he would still remember that sentence if he forgot every other word in French he had ever learned, just from hearing it so often.  
But those were short distractions and never kept him from the station for long. After a few days of watching Jack hover about, Eder took pity on him and assigned some of the station‘s other cases for him to work on. There was a string of break-ins in Gilberton, one of the richer neighbourhoods and a few sly grog shops in North Adelaide that needed clearing out. Jack took the work gratefully, but even with those investigations he ended his days earlier than he normally would at home. It was tricky to navigate the necessary authorities, considering Jack was far out of his jurisdiction, which meant he needed to be supervised by a local officer at all times, who then was the one being stuck with the paperwork. He really was turning into Miss Fisher. Worse than that, this way he had no excuse not to join the dinner party Phryne and her family had been invited to, news that both Phryne and Jane welcomed with much more glee than he felt he deserved. Jane pointedly reminded him of a German word he had taught her not too long ago: Schadenfreude.

The day before the dinner at the Grady’s brought Jane a letter from Mr Butler. Both her parents were a little surprised by that.  
“You correspond with Mr Butler?” Jack couldn’t help ask.  
Jane laughed at his incredulous tone.  
“Well, he has written to me a few times when I was in France,” she informed him, “but actually it was Dot who was supposed to write me. She promised to write when she was released from hospital. It seems she’s still a bit weak so Mr B’s taken over the writing.”  
“Is she alright?” Phryne asked a little alarmed.  
She had known that the birth had not been an easy one, forcing Mac to prescribe a few days of bed rest for Dot, but she assumed if she had taken a turn for the worse someone would have telegraphed. So the news that Dottie wasn’t up to writing a letter was a worrying surprise.  
“I think so.” Jane replied calmly, handing her the letter.  
Jack had never imagined Mr Butler as a letter writer. In fact it was difficult to imagine Mr Butler as anything other than the near invisible force that kept Wardlow a well functioning mechanism without the slightest hitch, no matter the circumstances. The Inspector didn’t even know what the man did on his rare days off. It had always felt somehow wrong to ask. But as he read the missive the servant had composed, over Phryne’s shoulder, it was as if there was no other way the letter could have possibly been written. It was so very much like the man himself: perfectly proper and discreet, not a word out of line, yet it was permeated with a gentle warmth and a fine sense of humour, that made Jack inevitably think of the twinkle in the man’s eyes he sometimes observed there. Mr Butler reported that Dorothy had returned home from the hospital, where she was being cared for by her mother and one of Constable Collins’ sisters, with whom she got on quite well, as Jack knew. Hugh had been beyond relieved that at least one member of his family had welcomed his bride with open arms. It seemed, however, that Mrs Collins was still in need of a lot of rest, which was why Mr Butler had taken it upon himself to take over her correspondence with Jane for the moment. Between the lines Jack could guess the hint that Mrs Collins exhaustion was partly due to the fact that she was still a little overwhelmed with her new state of motherhood, especially as Miss Mary still had to acquaint herself with social conventions such as sleeping during the night. Phryne chuckled a little.  
“I’m glad Dot is alright. At least with us gone she won’t have to feel guilty about neglecting her duties like she did the last months. That mother of hers really has the most curious opinions sometimes.” she commented.  
“I doubt even Mrs Williams could fault her daughter for being exhausted after her ordeal.” Jack replied.  
“Just why I don’t want children.” she quipped quietly enough so he was the only one who heard her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again a bit of a big one  
> I read somewhere that Dickens was thoroughly unpopular at the beginning of the century. His stile was considered too orotund and verbose (I wonder why ;-).  
> Winnetou is the most famous character of the German writer Karl May. He appeared in a plethora of his novels from 1875 onwards but the book in question would be Winnetou I-III published in 1893 with part IV following in 1910. May is (still) popular mostly for his adventure novels set the American Old West and is considered one of the best selling German writers of all time. Nowadays reactions to his stile are often similar to the ones to Dickens in the 20s. Common advise for reading goes along the lines of „don’t bother with the first 40 pages, it’s only description of landscapes (which he copied from travel guides anyway)“.  
> Which leads me directly to my head canon about Jack: I’ve already used it in Something Unstoppable (pitching one of my other stories again :-D) that in my mind Jack’s paternal grandmother was German, which is where he acquired his language skills.  
> Schadenfreude: taking pleasure in someone else’s misery. It’s regularly cited as one of the best German words with no English equivalent.


	21. Gifts that Please Girls

When the evening of the dinner invitation arrived, about a week into their stay in Adelaide, neither Jack nor Jane could credibly feign being otherwise engaged, at least not in Phryne’s opinion, who didn’t consider an appointment with a good book a suitable excuse. In the end Jane put up more of a fight than Jack, who could at least make himself believe that Victor Hugo would not in fact go anywhere and an evening in company might not be the worst idea. Phryne did after all tend to have good taste in her friends.  
He was ready to change his mind when they pulled up in front of an elegant townhouse and where greeted by a butler who confirmed what he had already feared when Phryne had insisted on him wearing a dinner jacket (he couldn’t even bring the excuse that he hadn’t packed it, because of course Mr Butler in his infinite wisdom had): this was not a private dinner invitation among friends, but a dinner party involving about twenty people, most of which had not done a day of honest work in their lives but had definitely spent more on this evenings wardrobe than Jack earned in a month.  
At least he had been right about Phryne’s friends. Gloria Grady and her husband Martin greeted them warmly. They were a handsome and somehow very English couple, even though Jack couldn’t exactly pinpoint what made him think so. But he decided it didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. Gloria gushed, apparently perfectly honestly, over Phryne’s dress and Jane’s everything.  
“You are a perfectly lovely young lady.” she exclaimed, “Not that I doubted it for a second but I’m happy to finally meet you.”  
Jane smiled politely and a little awkwardly. She peered up at Phryne who was greeted with surprisingly similar words by Martin. Her eyes fell on a blond girl a little older than her who was waiting with an exaggeratedly bored expression behind the Lady of the house.  
“And this is my daughter Juliet.” Gloria introduced them.  
“My name is Cassandra.” the girl insisted in a tone that suggested it wasn’t the first time her mother had made that blunder. But when she turned to the guests she smiled politely and put on her best behaviour. It seemed her wrath was exclusively reserved for Gloria.  
“My daughter Juliet, who prefers to be called by her middle name, because she doesn’t want to be named after a Shakespeare character.” her mother amended the introduction.  
“I don’t want to be named after _that_ Shakespeare character.” Cassandra specified. “I’d be perfectly fine with Beatrice or Celia and I could make do with Rosalind or Viola. Even Jessica would be acceptable. But who wants to be named after a silly goose kills herself for some cad she met three days before?” She rolled her eyes.  
“That cad was her husband.” Jack pointed out with a glint in his eyes Phryne knew all too well. They had both finished greeting the older Gradys and had turned to the younger one who easily commandeered the attention of everybody now.  
“Who she met three days before.” Cassandra emphasised.  
“He killed himself for her, too.” Jane pointed out.  
Suddenly Phryne had a very good notion of just where the conversation would be heading for the rest of the evening. It could have been worse, she supposed and she didn’t begrudge it either Jack or Jane.

Just as Phryne had expected the conversation continued to revolve around the role of women in the works of Shakespeare on one end of the table during most of dinner. Jack and the two girls were joined by one or two of the other guests, which kept them happy and left Phryne mercifully free to catch up with her friend. As much as she adored Jack’s enthusiasm about the bard and loved matching her wits against his about it, she was rather unwilling to listen to a lot of other people’s opinions, especially for hours on end. She also knew Jane’s tendency to lead debates on a highly academic level, which in her opinion took much of the fun out of any text.  
So she left the bibliophiles to their own devices and turned her full attention to Gloria. The two had met when Phryne had first come to England at the exclusive finishing school her parents had sent her off to as soon as her feet had touched English soil. Gloria had been fascinated by the rough girl from the slums on the other end of the world and Phryne had been glad to meet someone who didn’t turn up their nose at her immediately.  
Gloria, a kind and open woman but never the free spirit Phryne had always been, had married according to her parents’ wishes, a rich and desirable gentleman from the midlands. No one, Gloria least of all, would have expected them to end up in Australia. But to everybody’s surprise Martin had turned out more of an adventurer than anyone had thought and apparently his heart had been set on the antipodes. When he had gotten a good deal on a substantial piece of land in South Australia in 1924 he had moved his family with the whole kit and caboodle to Adelaide. His wife had taken it with all the equanimity of good breeding.  
“It’s certainly not London,” she told Phryne, as she leaned in conspiratorially, “but it’s so much better than Birmingham. And there are worse places to raise a child I guess.”  
If anyone had asked her two years ago, Phryne would have certainly not expected to be discussing the challenges of raising a teenage girl at a dinner party. But here she was doing just that, finding, to her not inconsiderable delight, that she was indeed very lucky that Jane had not yet developed any terrible moods or temper tantrums. Secretly Phryne hoped she never would, her recent outbursts and bouts of stubbornness and embarrassment were really the limit of what she was willing to endure. From there on the conversation moved to the chores of everyday life and Phryne’s reason for visiting Adelaide. Gloria couldn’t help a delighted laugh when she heard of Phryne’s job.  
“You know, with anyone else it would sound completely preposterous, but you were always the cleverest person I’ve known.” she admitted, “And it certainly explains how you ended up engaged to a policeman.” she observed, “Not the kind of man I assume your father would have picked.” she added with a wink.  
“Being picked by my father would be the safest way to ensure I’d want nothing to do with the man.” Phryne replied in the same light tone.  
Her friend laughed heartedly. Even in the society circles of England ten years ago it had been an open secret that Phryne and the Baron had a complicated relationship to say the least, even though only few people knew exactly why.  
“And yet the papers were raving about the extravagant party he has thrown for your birthday last year.” Gloria remarked, “Was he trying to make up for something or bartering you away?” “Hoping for both, I’d say, and succeeding in neither.” Phryne replied lightly.  
She tried not to think of her father too much since she had left England again. Gloria seemed to sense, or remember, the topic wasn’t one that suited her guest, so she changed it.  
“If I’m being honest I wouldn’t have put money on you ever ending up like this regardless. Engaged to a man like Inspector Robinson. Someone so steady and unexotic.” she added, anticipating Phryne’s objections, “I always imagined if anyone could entrance you enough to settle down it would at least have to be an artist or an adventurer. Some cosmopolitan dandy.”  
She laughed lightly. Phryne joined in, keeping her effortless demeanour with the ease brought by years of practice.  
Normally she would have waved the comment away with her usual sauciness. Maybe if she felt like it, defend Jack from the underlying insinuation that he was boring. She knew Gloria didn’t mean to sound demeaning, for her being steady was a compliment. But Phryne never liked even the hint of suspicion that she might have ‘settled for’ Jack as if he wasn’t the best possible option of a man to commit to. Normally convincing Gloria with well placed hints and innuendos that Jack was any thing but boring would have been part of the fun the evening had to offer.  
When accepting her friend’s invitation, she had hoped to leave the case and the memories it kept stirring up behind for a night. She had hoped to have the opportunity to drink and laugh and dance the night away at least a little.  
But in the state her mind was in, had been in for weeks now, even a casual remark, an innocent comment on the life she had lived touched upon the things she tried not to be reminded of. The shadow of the past, the artist who she had almost ended up with, just like Gloria had assumed, was lurking closer and darker than normally.  
Her smile didn’t falter for a second, she didn’t blink, but she had to fight the urge to reach out and put her hand on Jack’s arm to connect herself to his presents, the here and now.  
“I tried those,” she said airily, “they didn’t stick.”  
Her friend shrugged, not noticing the slight tension in her voice and the pitch that was just that much too high.  
“Clearly I was wrong.” she admitted.  
She observed Jack explaining something to her daughter with great patience even as the girl kept interrupting him, smiling warmly.  
“He seems a good man.”  
“He is.” Phryne confirmed, “Even if he doesn’t always appreciate the benefits of an active social live.” she added with a real grin. She didn’t need Jack to fight her demons, she had done so long before she had known him and had always been victorious. But it felt good none the less to know he was there to help her put on and off her armour when she fought them.  
“Not who I expected you to fall in love with,” Gloria laughed, “but I’m happy for you that you did. And you have a daughter. Another thing no one could have predicted.”  
“Not even I could have predicted that.” Phryne acknowledged. “I certainly never intended to have children. But when Jane came to me, well, I suppose you could say that was the first time I fell in love.” she smiled at the memory, “Miraculously I haven’t regretted it for a moment. Well, apart from one or two during the last week. There isn’t an awful lot to do at the moment; we’re just sitting around waiting for a new development in our case. I suppose we’ve all been getting a bout of cabin fever.” she explained.  
“Well, if you’re looking for an occupation,” Gloria indicated, “you might want to talk to Catherine Lornsdale over there. She and her husband have apparently been robbed last week. Nearly all her jewellery is missing, which is supposedly why she decided to combine corrals with pink satin.” Gloria’s arched brow indicated her suspicion that Mrs Lornsdale would have committed this sartorial atrocity no matter her missing valuables.  
“According to her, the thieves cut through a window while they were in Sydney for the week. And it seems the police do not have the faintest idea what to do about it.”  
Phryne furrowed her brow as she considered her friends story. “Jack,” she addressed her partner, putting a hand on his arm to get his attention, “doesn’t that sound exactly like the robberies you’ve been investigating?”  
Jack reluctantly left a rather lively discussion of the virtues of Eleanor of Aquitaine versus those of Volumnia and turned to Phryne.  
“Pardon?”  
When Gloria repeated what she knew about the robbery at the Lornsdales, he frowned, too.  
“I’m assuming Mr and Mrs Lornsdale live south of the river.” he guessed. Mrs Grady nodded. “They live in Evendale, southeast of here.” she confirmed.  
Jack nodded as understanding dawned on him.  
“That case was then probably covered by a different station. Unfortunately, from what I have seen, the cooperation between stations here isn’t any better than it is in Melbourne.” he sighed.  
“But that would explain why you couldn’t work out how they choose their victims. We’ve likely only seen half the picture.” Phryne chimed in.  
Jack gave her an amused look at the ease with which she slipped into his investigation as if she had always been part of it. Not that he’d have her any other way.  
“Already bored with the case of a serial murderer, Miss Fisher?” he teased. She gave him a exasperated look.  
“There hasn’t been any movement in this case for days, Jack. Even you’ve grown anxious with waiting around and I‘m not half as good as you at standing still.” she pointed out.

All in all the evening had been surprisingly pleasant. It wasn’t the first time Phryne had dragged Jack and Jane to a social event and neither of them had any illusions that it would be the last. But as far as society dinners went, this had been on the less excruciating side of things. Normally Jack would make it through these kinds of events making meaningless small talk with people who looked down on him or trying not to be rude to someone who thought he was an exciting diversion from the usual. Tonight he had actually had a few truly interesting conversations and that was unexpectedly due to a couple of teenage girls.  
Jack had been the first to admit, not even a year ago that conversing with teenage girls was not exactly a forte of his. He thought he had made progress with Jane’s help over the last few weeks and months but then, as Phryne never tired of pointing out, Jane was very mature for her age most of the time. Jack wasn’t entirely convinced if a certain hard-boiledness at the sight of murder and whatever other mayhem followed Phryne around, was really to be equated with maturity but he agreed Jane was not like most adolescent girls in his acquaintance.  
And neither was Cassandra Grady apparently, at least she hadn’t made him feel like he was terribly old or made him wonder if he had ever been that silly, which were his usual reactions when faced with adolescents. Instead she had made some excellent points on some of his favourite plays and he had thoroughly enjoyed disagreeing with her. He had noticed that Jane had generally tended to defer to his judgement whenever she wasn’t sure of something herself, which made him equally proud as it surprised him. The fact that he might have gotten another lead in one of his cases was merely the cherry on top.  
Phryne of course didn’t miss that the two of them had rather enjoyed the evening and was looking thoroughly smug at that. Under normal circumstances Jack would have been challenged by just how pleased she was with herself, but after the last few weeks he was content to let her have it this once. As long as she didn’t rub it in too much.  
Jane seemed completely oblivious to her foster mother’s self-satisfied smirk as she happily told her that Cassandra had invited her to tea with some of her friends for the next day.  
“Now aren’t you glad you came along to the dinner.” Phryne asked with a wink. But her triumphant smile slid off her face so suddenly Jane didn’t even have time to reply. The look of shock on her face made the girl involuntarily reach for her hand and look around for danger. Seeing Phryne that horrified was among the most frightening things Jane had ever seen, simply because Phryne never seemed to be afraid of anything. Everything that shocked her therefore had to be truly terrible.  
“Are you alright?” she asked, when she was sure no one was pointing a gun at them. To her surprise the worried look on Jack’s face mirrored her own.  
“Phryne?” he asked quietly.  
At the sound of her name Phryne snapped out of her freeze and gave her daughter what she hoped was a reassuring smile.  
“Everything’s fine, Jane.” she assured her, although the hand she had on Jack’s arm was trembling slightly. She hoped he wouldn’t notice. “That’s just something my mother used to say to me and Janey, when we’d visit Aunt Prudence. We always hated it, but in the end we’d get a lolly or some trinket, to lift our spirits on the way home. I just never thought I’d ever say that to anyone.” she explained, taking Jane’s hand in hers, pulling her in for a light hug.  
For the moment it seemed everything was well again, but Jack noticed that her smile, meant to calm Jane did not reach her eyes.  
So he wasn’t surprised when the topic came back up later when they were cuddled up in bed together, Jane safely in her own room at the end of the corridor.  
“I’m turning into her,” Phryne complained loudly, “I’m turning into my mother. Even now, when I’m doing everything right, when I’m not making her mistakes, even with you and Jane, I’m turning into her.”  
Jack would have laughed at her exaggerated worry, if he hadn’t sensed her genuine distress about this. This case had her already raw with the memories of DuBois lurking in every shadow and any reminder that she was acting similarly to her mother was also one of the fact that, just like her mother, she had once fallen for a manipulative and abusive man who had twisted her love for him into a weapon against herself. Phryne Fisher wasn’t afraid of many things, but ending up like her mother was definitely one of them. It wasn’t much helped by the fact that through mere biology she was inevitably partly like her mother, no matter what she did or didn’t do.  
So Jack did the only thing he could do under the circumstances. It seemed to be the motto of these days. He tried to reassure her:  
“One sentence does not turn you into your mother. If anything it turns you into _a_ mother. My mother said that sentence to me at least a hundred times, as has probably every mother in the world at some point.”  
She wrapped her arms around him more tightly.  
“I don’t think I would mind being like your mother.” she decided.  
Jack gave a low chuckle. “I’m not sure I could handle that. I already have enough issues for Dr Freud to have a field day with me.”

They spent the next two days tracing down the lead on the jewel thieves they had discovered at the dinner party. After the discovery of a second set of burglaries the pattern was easily detected. One late night stake out later, this one, Jack had to wistfully accept, without Mrs Collins cottage pie, and the thieves were in custody. That case at least was successfully concluded. It gave Jack some semblance of sense that they hadn’t come all this way completely in vain and gained him a little respect with the officers at Eder’s station, proving that he was a decent investigator after all, despite his so far futile attempts to find anything useful in the serial murderer case.  
But it also showed Jack that Phryne truly was at least as irritated by being forced to sit and wait as he was. There was a sense of impatience and absentmindedness about her dealing with the robberies and her usual enjoyment of the mystery was, not exactly missing, but considerably subdued. When the investigating Inspector from Adelaide Central threw up a fuss about working with an out of state detective and a woman, it was all Jack could do to keep her from biting the man‘s head clean of.

Jane appeared the only one who was fully enjoying this trip, now that she started to spend time with Cassandra and some of her friends. Jack suspected that, while Jane probably genuinely liked spending time with her foster parents, they were no substitute for friends her own age. Luckily the two girls had hit it off and seemed to have no intention to let that budding friendship go to waste. The invitation to tea was followed by a trip to Glenelg and a cycling excursion to Picadilly valley. Both Detectives began to look forward to the evenings when their increasingly frustrating days ended and they could enjoy dinner with Jane excitedly regal them with an account of today’s adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shakespeare characters mentioned:  
> Beatrice: Much Ado about Nothing  
> Celia & Rosalind: As you like it  
> Viola: Twelfth Night  
> Jessica: Merchant of Venice  
> Eleanor of Aquitaine: King John  
> Volumnia: Coriolanus
> 
> Considering that Adelaide grew mostly after WWII, Evendale probably wasn’t much to look at back then but I like it.


	22. Polute the Sacred Fountain

It was a Tuesday when finally happened what they had silently been waiting for.  
A man had been found in the northern half of Kindgston Park, tied to a tree near a pond. He had been found by an Italian Nonna and her daughter visiting the cemetery in the early afternoon. They had called the groundkeeper, who in turn had called the police. By the time the crime scene had been secured and the body examined enough for the Officer on sight to call in City North, it was nearly five o’clock, several constables had lost their lunches, one had fainted, the old Lady had been taken to hospital in hysterics and the crime scene had been thoroughly trampled over.

Phryne observed the place critically. Under different circumstances it would have been a romantic spot. The puddle in front of them could barely be called a pond, but it was surrounded by grass and trees and the lowering sun glittered enticingly on the surface.  
The man kneeling next to one of the trees with his trousers down and a gaping wound between his thighs slightly marred the idyllic picture.  
“She could have left footprints, but...” Jack stated with a less than impressed look at the soft ground that had been run over by a variety of shoes today. The local constabulary had not exactly covered themselves in glory securing the scene. It wasn’t even possible to distinguish whether a blood trail led to the pond anymore in the upset, muddy ground. Instead, people had been trampling through the pool of blood surrounding the body, leaving their own trails in all directions. Chief Inspector Eder was currently busy reducing the Senior Sergeant of Keswick Police Station to a shrivelling pile of abjection.  
“At least they had the good sense to take the photos earlier.” he grumbled as he walked over to join his out of town colleagues, “Otherwise we’d have to worry about loosing the light.”  
Jack noticed that Eder threw a concerned look at Phryne, obviously unsure how she would handle an actual crime scene as opposed to just photographs, but when he saw that she didn’t even blink at the sight, he visibly relaxed.  
“I doubt we would have found much useful anyway.” he admitted, “Our murderer has been very careful so far. After the blunder with the aspirin container she is probably even more cautious.”  
“Have the coroner examine his clothes.” Phryne suggested, “Do we know who he is?”  
“According to my colleague,” Eder spit the word out, “he didn’t have any identification.” He sighed deeply.  
“Let’s salvage what is to salvage while we still can and get the coroner’s boys down here to pick him up before we call it a day.”

An odd silence hung over the dinner table that night. They had waited and, if Jack was perfectly honest with himself, desperately anticipated the next murder, but now that they had found the body there was no sense of relief. Because a murder was nothing to be relieved about, he chided himself. But the truth was that the fact the body had been found so late in the day that they couldn’t really start investigating until tomorrow had left them hanging in an odd limbo of anticipation, impatience and impotence. He wanted to get started and he couldn’t, and knowing Phryne, whose limited supply on patience had been exhausted days ago, the fact frustrated her probably even more than him. Additionally, the longer they sat here condemned to inactivity, the more doubts crept into his mind. The sad truth was that they hadn’t really made any progress towards the killer for weeks. Neither the Ali nor the Hollinghurst murder had gotten them any closer than they had been after their first victim. They still only had a dark haired woman, men who were rapists and a vague, potential connection to hospitals. Was a new body going to make much difference?  
Phryne didn’t dwell on the possibility of failure. Just like Jack suspected she was brimming with a barely contained need for action. In spite of the odd distraction, the time in Adelaide had dragged on endlessly to her and the cities charms were quickly wearing thin. She missed Mac and Dot, even Mr Butler and the cabbies, but more than that she simply hated waiting, especially for a murderer. While she chewed over her dinner, she contemplated if a nightly excursion, to the morgue or to revisit the crime scene, would be beneficial for the case. It certainly would be for her mental state. She was dying for something to do. Unfortunately she had little hope that a search of the park in the dark would render much, as much fun as it would be to infiltrate a graveyard at night again. But Jack was too much of a rationalist to appreciate the adventure in it. When they had been chasing Freddy Ashmede to the tomb of Aunt P’s godson, he had been as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in the park. Besides she wasn‘t sure she could convince him to come along, especially since she herself had to admit it was probably a fools errand. But he couldn’t really expect her to sit still for another night, could he? Not when the answers might finally be within their reach.  
Jack chose that moment to put a hand on her knee, stilling her foot she had unconsciously been tapping. Her eyes flew to his and she knew instantly that he could see her considerations on her face. She could tell he was suppressing an amused smirk, even as he fixated her with a stern glance.  
“Too much energy, Miss Fisher?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head.  
“Well, I have been doing nothing but sit still for days now, Inspector.” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes. There was no way she was going to sleep much tonight, and if she wasn’t going to investigate she might as well make use of the time some other way.  
“Maybe you can recommend some way of release?”  
“I suppose I could think of something.” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.  
“Oi!” Jane rather rudely interrupted their moment. “I thought we had an agreement. Impressionable teenage girl listening to you,” she stated and added pointedly, “in a public restaurant.”  
Jack refused to blush at the, not entirely unjustified, protest. Really, they had had racier conversation in his office or in the presence of corpses. But he was willing to acquiesce for Jane’s sake, admitting to himself that it was probably a little awkward for her where this was going.  
“Well, then,” he said, turning to her, “let me impress on you that a nightly break-in into cemeteries or any other government facility is not something you should contemplate in the presence of a police officer. Or at all.”  
He didn’t turn his head to give Phryne a pointed look. It wasn’t necessary; everyone at the table knew who he was truly talking to.  
“Oh, you are no fun.” Phryne pouted.  
Jack made an innocent face, the kind she knew she had made only a moment ago. “Well,” he said, “Jane is right: We are in public.”

They reconvened the next morning at the station. Clearly the coroner had been pressured to rush the autopsy because the report was already waiting for them on Eder’s desk. Results on the blood test was still pending, but neither of them had a shred of doubt what it would find.  
“So victim number four.” Eder addressed his gathered troupes. His face was grim and determined.  
“Died of exsanguination, like the others. Other than our last victim the coroner is certain he had been drinking quite a lot before he died. Which, by the way, was yesterday morning between three and four. He was tied up approximately around midnight. First of all,” he said, “we need to work out who he was. There was no identification on his body, nothing on his clothes. He had a wallet which held less than a pound in change and a tram ticket. Other than that there was a set of keys in his pocket and a handkerchief. His clothes were decent, but neither new nor of significant quality. An office worker I would say.”  
“I recognise him, Sir.” Constable Maar stated, interrupting her superior’s speech. She had taken up the report and looked at the photograph of the dead man.  
“Yes?” Eder looked up surprised. The other assembled officers and Phryne followed his lead.  
“He was a witness in a suicide case we had a couple of weeks ago.” Maar elaborated, “A woman; she had been dragged out the Torrens a few days before. The second time she did a better job, swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.”  
“So she meant it.” Eder sighed, “How was this... gentleman a witness?”  
He hesitated knowing full well just what kind of a gentleman their victim would probably turn out to be.  
“She worked as a telephone operator, he was her supervisor. He testified to her state of mind.” Maar replied. “A right charmer he was.” she added callously.  
Her superior nodded having his suspicions confirmed.  
“We’ll need that file.” he said resigned, “And anything we have on him, once you come up with a name.” he ordered.  
“It wasn’t our jurisdiction.” Maar pointed out, “The boys at Central called me in.”  
Eder sighed. “This case has priority over district lines. Get that file, if they put up a fuss tell them to take it up with Commissioner Leane.” he ordered. The Constable nodded and disappeared towards the nearest telephone.

Fifteen minutes later Constable Maar had procured the file for the suicide case, as well as the information on the dead from births, deaths and marriages.  
“I’m sure that’s him.” she declared handing the papers to Eder, “Jonathan McEwan, 46, lives in Frewville.”  
“He had a wife,” Eder sounded surprised, “and three kids.”  
“We’ll need the wife to come in and officially identify the body.” Jack noted.  
“I’ve already called her; she’ll be at the morgue in half an hour.” Maar confirmed.  
“Someone should meet her there.” Phryne said without a moment’s hesitation, already grabbing her cloche and purse.  
Eder nodded.  
“Constable, please take Miss Fisher to the morgue. Get the widow’s statement as well as you can. Enemies, acquaintances, if she didn‘t notice he didn’t come home last night, the usual. If you think it’s necessary you can bring her in but I’d like to spare her, unless she has absolutely vital information. She’ll have enough to get through now.”  
The two women nodded and left the station side by side.

Jack’s eyes followed them until the door closed behind them. He couldn’t entirely hide his surprise at the ease with which Eder incorporated Phryne into his team. It had taken him months to come to terms with her invadling, and more until they had found a suitable rhythm in their work. The Adelaidean on the other hand seemed to have no issues with that what so ever.  
“You’re much better at dealing with her than I was when I knew her a week.” Jack expressed his thoughts with a wry smile.  
“I’m guessing I’m a whole lot older than you, too.” Eder replied with a wink, “And a week is plenty to see she’s not the kind who accepts being told ‘no’.” he added.  
“I’ll have to admit that it took me a bit longer than that to accept.” Jack confessed.  
The grace with which Eder dealt with him, but more so Phryne in this investigation commanded his respect for the man. It made him wonder about himself sometimes.  
Jack considered himself a fairly modern man, increasingly so since he had met Phryne. But he prided himself that even before knowing her he had not considered any woman inferior in neither skills nor intellect, merely because of her sex. Yet it had taken him several attempts before he had been willing to tolerate Miss Fisher at his crime scenes, despite the fact that he had been impressed with her deductive skills and tenacity, ever since he had liberated her from the Turkish bath palace and she had delivered Lydia Andrews and Butcher George to him on a silver platter. She had told him she had thought him ‘rather civilised’ upon their first meeting but seeing just how accepting Eder was without even batting an eyelash somehow made him feel like he had been terribly dismissive of her then.  
“I’m betting when you met her she hadn’t been following a bloke across the country.” Eder interrupted his self-deprecating thoughts.  
Well, technically she came half way around the globe for the bloke who killed her sister, the cynical part of his brain supplied. But he hadn’t known that then.  
“And most likely she didn’t come with the recommendation of a highly regarded officer of police.” Eder added.  
“I’ve inquired after you before I requested your presence.” he said, in response to Jack’s obviously baffled expression. “I have no need for a useless copper who arrests the first person he happens to come across just so he can get home from his shift on time. I’ve got more than enough of those here myself. So I asked about you. Had my guys do a bit of diggin’ when Commissioner Wolfe recommended you, and a bit on your Miss Fisher, when she showed up here.” He was grinning widely now.  
Jack was utterly stunned. Not just at the titbit that Wolfe had actually recommended him, though that deserved a detailed analysis at some point, but the thought that he would have a positive reputation among the force genuinely surprised him. He had always suspected his colleagues regarded him with a degree of suspicion and probably envy. He knew he had been denounced as George Sanderson’s pet after the police strike and much longer after. Arresting the man must have appeared as an outrageous case of ungratefulness on his part and he knew that a copper who turned against his own was often considered someone who couldn’t be trusted. Adding to that the social stain of a divorce and his unconventional, some might say scandalous, relationship with Phryne. All in all he wouldn’t have been in the least surprised if his reputation would have been a reason to turn him away. Disappointed, because he knew he was a good detective, but not surprised. To learn that the exact opposite was the case and that someone other than him might regard Phryne as an asset rather than a nuisance caught him completely off guard. Fortunately, if spending time with Phryne had taught him anything it was not to let his astonishment show.  
“I’m amazed you haven’t solved this case alone, considering how thorough you are.” he said after clearing his throat.  
Eder chuckled. “If that was all it took to be a good copper, I’d know a couple of guys who’d be Chief Commissioner by now. Unfortunately there’s a bit more to it.”  
That Jack could only agree with. And if that were all it took to become Chief Commissioner plenty of cops would be worlds better than they are, he mentally added, thinking of the long list of lazy policemen he had known over the years.  
“You’re still being very generous in letting us into your investigation so easily.” he replied, “Not many officers take kindly to outsiders meddling with their investigation, let alone welcome it.”  
The other Inspector shrugged.  
“It’s a lot less selfless than you think.” he admitted, “It’s simple really. I have nothing to gain and everything to loose by being territorial. I don’t know how things are in Victoria but right now the separation between us regular cops and the top brass here is about as easy to cross as no-man’s land. I’m already as high up as I’ll ever get without any connections above. I got here through my own work and have no ties to the high and mighty, so I won’t be getting promoted any further. Not in this life. Which is fine by me, I’ve never been a pencil pusher anyway.  
„So if we solve this case I’m happy to get a pat on the back, maybe a bonus if I’m lucky and then they’ll hopefully forget about me again. But if I screw this up they’ll no doubt have me replaced by somebody’s second cousin or some such faster than you can say Jack Robinson, no offense. And I’ll find myself with a new post in the Nullarbor.” Eder explained.  
Jack nodded slowly. It was a familiar scenario and therefore a logical argument. The Victorian Police operated similarly. The top brass usually came from the military or the upper echelons of the city, rather than being actual police officers. There were a few exceptions, men who married up or had some other vague connections. Jack could have been one of them after he married George Sanderson’s daughter and Rosie had certainly hoped for that. After the war he had lost any interest in that kind of a career, feeling rather similar to Eder, that the real work was done by those in the field, but for the first time it occurred to him now that there might no longer be an alternative. Even after his divorce from Rosie he had still been close to George in a way. The older man had still championed him and his career, he knew that. It was only after Georges arrest and subsequent trial that Jack had irrevocably severed all ties to the upper ranks he had had. At the time other aspects of this broken relationship, the betrayal and the disappointment in his former father-in-law, had occupied him more than thoughts of his own career. But talking with another officer about these things he suddenly realised, he had always assumed he had the option, that not advancing further up the ladder was his choice. Now he was forced to consider the possibility that there was no longer a choice. That he might have risen as high as he ever would, no matter his personal inclination. To his own surprise he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.  
“So I only can win by bringing you here.” Eder continued unaware of his counterparts personal realisations.  
“Even if we don’t get him, you’ll be a useful scapegoat.” he said with a wink, “And the same goes for your Miss Fisher. I’m not stupid enough to think she can’t help, just because she’s a woman. It takes about five minutes to see she’s a clever one, maybe more clever than both of us. And I’ve learned long ago not to think women can’t be good at police work. Chrissy Maar works twice as hard as half of my men. Hell, she’d be Senior Sergeant by now if I had a say. So no prejudice there from me. I’ll take her help; I’ll even let her take the glory. Whatever gets this wretched case of my desk.”  
Jack couldn’t hide an appreciative smirk.  
“You might be a wiser man than I ever was.” he admitted quietly.  
Eder laughed and shook his head.  
“You’re the one who found that marvel of a woman and had the wisdom to keep her.” he pointed out, “And once this is all over, I might take you out for a drink and make you tell me exactly how you did it. I reckon there’s one or two good stories in there.”  
Jack allowed the tiny smirk on his face to widen a fraction.  
“I think I could cope with that.” he agreed, “Though you might be disappointed with the extent of my wisdom in that story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> West Terrace Cemetery is the oldest in SA. It appeared in first plans for the city in 1837. It has sections for Jewish, Islamic, Afghan, Quaker, Catholic and Church of England burials. One of the Catholic parts has a high density of Italians (though not sure since when).  
> It has the oldest crematorium in Australia, since 1903 and for 20 years this was the only one in all of Australia.  
> There is also big section for war veterans.  
> Raymond Leane, was Chief Commissioner of SAPOL 1920-1944. He was also a highly decorated WWI officer (AIF). His appointment was initially quite controversial as it was expected for the commissioner to be appointed from within the force. Since SAPOL did not form out of the military like the Victoria Police, Commissioners usually came from with in the force rather than the military (as was usual in Victoria). But he was eventually accepted. However, his appointment paved the way for more military men in the top brass of SAPOL.  
> The Nullarbor is a plain area in the South west part of SA bordering Western Australia and the great Victoria Dessert (essentially between Adelaide and Perth though not quite). It’s mostly arid/semi-arid limestone country barely inhabited. Basically, a large plot of nothing. The name means ‘no trees’ which probably says it all. “Crossing the Nullabor” is apparently sometimes considered the quintessential outback experience.


	23. The Bringer of Aid

Phryne and Constable Maar arrived at the morgue about two minutes before Mrs McEwan, a small portly woman, who looked older than she probably was and had more grey hair then she most likely deserved. She confirmed Maar’s identification of the body. The shock on her face alone was almost confirmation enough. The two investigators gave her a few minutes to collect herself before they gently started to question her about her husband.  
She had noticed his absence last night, but had thought nothing of it at the time.  
“He’d often missed dinner. Had to work late, that’s what he said.” she sniffled.  
“He said?” Phryne inquired.  
Mrs McEwan wiped her eyes and snuffled some more.  
“Don‘t think he really believed I didn’t know he went out for drinks. He’d come home late, bangin’ the doors, reeking of grog an’ ale. Woke me and the kids plenty of times.” she told them.  
Phryne shuddered, the memories of her own father’s nightly returns from various pubs and gambling dens all to clear in her mind.  
“That must have been difficult.” she offered.  
The older woman shrugged.  
“He weren’t no perfect husband. Probably had a piece or two on the side as well,” she admitted, “but he was me old man. He had a good job, gave me enough of the money to feed the kids, never drank on Sundays. He was a good father to our boys, he was. And he’d always come back to me. What more can a woman like me ask for?”  
When Phryne shuddered this time it was the memory of her mother that came rushing to the forefront. Her mother who always defended her husband, even in the face of the most damning evidence. The arguments were eerily familiar and equally nauseating: ‘It’s not as bad as it looks’, ‘he doesn’t mean it’, ‘he’s doing the best he can’. Phryne pressed her lips tightly together, fighting the urge to shake the woman in front of her and tell her she was better off without him.  
“So you didn’t think anything unusual when he didn’t come home last night.” Constable Maar summed up, “What about this morning?”  
“Well, I didn’t know until I got up an’ he weren’t there, now did I?” Mrs McEwan said rather defensively, “And it’s happened that he didn’t make it home some nights until the morning. So I waited and when he didn’t show I called his office, thought maybe he’d gone straight there. I was just about to go and ask in the hotels when you called.”  
Unfortunately for their investigation, Mr McEwan had at least had the grace not to confront his wife with any of his mistresses, so she had never seen him with another woman and the description of their suspect did not evoke any helpful memories from her. The two investigators quickly decided that the widow had nothing more to tell them and Constable Maar released her to go back home to her sons.  
“If you ever get in trouble, don’t hesitate to call.” she told the woman, pressing her official card into her palm. Phryne observed the gesture intrigued. Mrs McEwan was yet another woman in this case she wished she could do something for but unsure how, especially as she was only a visitor in this city. She was glad to see there seemed to be a support network for women like that in place. Rudimentary as it may be.

“May I ask how you became a policewoman?” Phryne inquired when they returned to the Hispano.  
Constable Maar shrugged. “Me dad‘s a cop. Was. He retired last year. I practically grew up in a police station. Been handling the front desk since I was twelve. Then married a copper and spend half my honeymoon trying to get women who had survived abortions to talk, to get the pig that did it. After that I figured I might as well get paid for it, since it’s not like I’ll ever not be a police woman anyway.”  
Phryne nodded understandingly. She knew that in many stations it was a common practice for wives and daughters of police officers to help out. She assumed the only reason Jack’s ex-wife never had to do it, was that she had been George Sanderson’s daughter and no one could expect the daughter of the deputy commissioner to answer the telephone.  
It was why most officers at City South had no problem accepting Dot there at all times of the day, since she was Hugh’s wife, even if he continued to try to, more or less subtly, push her towards less detecting. With the baby he might actually be successful, Phryne mused.  
“Not exactly my idea of an ideal honeymoon.” she said lightly, “Do you like it?”  
Maar tilted her head. “Mine neither,” she admitted, “but I couldn’t have sat back and do nothing.”  
Again Phryne nodded, fully understanding and agreeing with the other woman. Sometimes doing nothing was not an option in her eyes.  
“I must like it, I guess.” the policewoman continued, “They don’t allow us wear uniforms which would make the job a hell of a lot easier, but like I said it’s what I’ve done since I could walk, so I know how to do it. And we’re allowed guns now, so that’s a step forward.”  
“It does come in handy when one deals with criminal elements in my experience.” Phryne said approvingly.  
For the first time since she had met her, the Constable showed something like a grin.  
“That it does.” she confirmed, “And I’ve never been the sit at home, doing embroidery type. I like to feel useful. Like I can make a difference, at least for some people.”

The women returned to the station and found the Inspectors bound over the file of the Amelia Barrowby suicide case. They both looked like the report about Mrs McEwan confirmed their suspicions.  
“I reckon we’ve found our motive.” Eder surmised, “The coroner couldn’t determine if she had been raped, but that’s to be expected. It might have happened weeks before she couldn’t take it any more.”  
“We’ll have to talk to people at his work place.” Jack stated.  
Eder nodded. “We will, but I’d like to have a better idea of where he’s been last night and with whom before.”  
Phryne in the meantime had picked up the file herself and studied it closely.  
“After she tried to drown herself she was treated in the same hospital as Mrs Ali.” she noticed.  
Her eyes flew up to meet Jack’s.  
“It has to be the hospitals, Jack. It’s too much of a coincidence. Both women in Melbourne were treated at the Royal Melbourne and here both at the Wakefield. It’s impossible there is no connection.”  
Eder nodded. “I’d have to agree. So our job will be to find it.” he stated determinedly.  
“I can have another chat with Judy and the other nurses.” Maar offered.  
Her superior shook his head. “You’ve already talked with them on both cases. We need a fresh pair of eyes for those inquiries. I’ll go myself. Maybe Miss Fisher would like to accompany me?”  
A determined nod from the lady detective confirmed this.  
“Besides I need you on another job.” Eder continued, “McEwan worked in the west end, it’s likely that he started his evening there. I need you to use your connections to track down any witnesses that might have seen him and our murderess. Inspector Robinson, if you would accompany Constable Maar, I’d feel better if she didn’t have to peruse the public houses on her own.”  
Jack nodded in accordance.  
“Good.” Eder sighed, “I suggest we reconvene at McEwan’s place of employment at,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “four o’clock?”  
The gathered investigators nodded and left the station together, where they split up to accomplish their respective tasks.

When Inspector Eder had talked about Constable Maar’s connections Jack had not expected his next stop would be a pub. But after a short drive south of the river that was undoubtedly where Maar parked and if he had any doubts left, they were dispersed when she headed towards the door without a moment’s hesitation.  
Jack looked around the bar. It reminded him of a place he and his mates had frequented when he had still been in the police academy. Cosy and a bit mouldy, the kind of pub where the floor is always a bit sticky and the barkeeper knows most of his customers by name and order. He liked it, almost in spite of himself. Constable Maar knocked on the wooden counter to attract the barkeeper’s attention. The small portly man with the red nose who came out from the backroom gave her a smile.  
"Chrissy, my girl, how are you?" he greeted friendly.  
"G’day Ben." she returned, "’fraid I’m here for work. This is DI Robinson from Melbourne. Ben Farley, owner of the Launceton Hotel and a family friend." she introduced the two men to each other.  
Ben raised his eyebrows.  
"Melbourne, huh? Hope you’re not here to snatch our Chrissy away to the big city." he said with a wink.  
"Somehow, I doubt she would listen to me." Jack replied dryly.  
The publican laughed out loud.  
"Too right." he agreed.  
"No, we’re here about a customer." Jack told him.  
"Did you know Jonathan McEwan?" Maar asked.  
Ben frowned lightly. "Jono? Sure. He’s a regular. What’s he done?"  
"He’s died, Ben. Sorry."  
Mr Farley’s eyes widened.  
"Oh my." he stuttered, "That poor wife of his. How did that happen?"  
"Was he in your hotel yesterday?" Jack asked.  
"Yeah. And right as rain when he left."  
"Was there a woman with him?" Christine continued the questions.  
The barkeeper’s brows furrowed further.  
"Now that you say it, yes. There was. Pretty thing." he confirmed.  
"Did you know her?"  
"Can’t say I did. They left together though when we closed."  
"Any clue where they were headed?"  
Ben shrugged. "North. Probably towards Hindleystreet if I had to bet."  
Maar sighed audibly. “Figures.” she muttered.  
“Anything else you can tell us about the woman?” Jack asked.  
The other man shrugged. “She drank cider?” he offered a little helplessly, “She had a green dress on, dark hair. Honestly I didn’t pay her much mind. Jono would often bring his girl of the moment here. Some of them didn’t look too happy about it. They probably knew he’d pick up the next one a week on. But that one didn’t seem to mind. She was all smiles and gooey eyes. Maybe she was hoping for a promotion.” he shrugged again.  
“So McEwan often had affairs with women from his office?”  
Ben nodded his face was resigned. “That’s at least where I reckon he got them from. Gotta feel sorry for Edith though. Poor woman sometimes came by in the mornings looking for him when he’d not made it home.” he shook his head sadly. Jack could feel the constable next to him tensing. Clearly the conversation with the wife was not out of her system yet. He nodded to the barkeeper.  
“Thank you, Mr Fairley.”

“Do your ‘connections’ extend to the watering holes on Hindleystreet?” he asked when they headed back to the car. Maar shook her head.  
“Unfortunately not. Ben is very particular in associating only with the owners of legal hotels, even though they become fewer all the time with the temperance people becoming more and more powerful.” she shook her head.  
“So you don’t believe that devil drink destroys good men?” He inquired sarcastically.  
“If he’s indeed a good man, it takes more than a drink in my experience to destroy that.” she returned, “And if a bad man wants to get drunk and beat his wife or gamble away his wages, he’ll find a way, no matter if the pubs close. As it is,” she added after a moment, “it’d be economic suicide for the town. This is wine country and you can’t make wine without alcohol. Besides we don’t have enough coppers to close down the speakeasies as it is; imagine if any drinking was forbidden.”  
Jack smiled wryly. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The Wakefield Hospital confirmed Phryne’s lingering suspicion that hospitals and schools could always be identified from the outside, even if you had never set eyes on the building in question before. They just always seemed to be inherently similar and not in a good way.  
As they entered she noticed that the Inspectors presence seemed to raise a few eyebrows, apparently he was much more willing to delegate than Jack, but the nurse they encountered instantly agreed to send the matron.  
Matron Judith Lorrimer was a beautiful woman despite the fact that she looked a little tired. She was a little older than Phryne, but her age did little to diminish her high cheekbones and elegantly curved eyebrows and there was no trace of grey yet in the dark lock of hair peeking out from her nurse’s cap. She smiled tensely at the sight of the Eder.  
“Inspector, how are you? What do I owe the pleasure? I hope Chrissy is alright.” she greeted them politely.  
“Constable Maar is perfectly fine. She’s just following some other lead. I’m currently working with this lovely lady, the Honourable Miss Fisher.” he assured her, “Miss Fisher meet Matron Lorrimer.”  
“A pleasure to meet you, Matron. Constable Maar speaks very highly of you.” Phryne greeted her with a wide smile. The other woman returned her handshake and smiled back politely. “Please call me Judy, everybody does. So what are you here about? I’m afraid we’re swamped, as usual, so I don’t have too much time.” she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes.  
“We’re here to follow up on the death of Amelia Barrowby,” Eder explained, “a suicide three weeks ago. Took some sleeping pills.”  
Judy frowned but after a moment her face cleared up. “I think I remember. Young, pretty, second attempt?”  
Eder nodded in confirmation.  
“I talked to Chrissy about it, there was nothing we could have done, no reason to suspect foul play. I can get you the file if you want.” Judy offered.  
“What I need to know is, was she in before? Before she was pulled out the river that is.” the Inspector inquired.  
The matron frowned some more. “It’s possible. I’d need to check our records. If you’d come with me for a moment.” She led them to a small office where the patient files were apparently stored.  
“Did you have other patients who work for the telephone company?” Phryne asked casually.  
Judy looked up from the drawer she was perusing.  
“We don’t usually demand information on our patient’s occupations.” she replied.  
“What about a Mrs Mc Ewan?” Miss Fisher continued undeterred.  
“I can check, but if she’s still alive I can’t let you see the file should we have one, not without a warrant. May I ask what this is all about?”  
“We’re trying to establish a connection between Miss Barrowby and a series of murders. The hospital is currently our best lead.” Eder informed her.  
The matron raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  
“Is this about the serial murderer from Melbourne the paper’s keep prattling on about?” she asked surprised, “I thought that was nothing but fear-mongering.”  
“It probably is,” Phryne assured her quickly, “we just need to make sure we’re not overlooking anything.”  
“But there is a series of murders?” Matron Judy insisted.  
“It looks like it.” Eder confirmed with a heartfelt sigh.  
Finally Judy located the file for Amelia Barrowby.  
“Here it is,” she said pleased, “let’s see. No, no previous treatment with us. In fact we didn’t treat her the first time. When she was saved from the river she was naturally brought to the closest hospital, which was the AH. She only came to us with the pills because we’re nearest from where she lived. But I don’t have any record that she was here on any other occasion.”  
Eder huffed in frustration.  
“What about Mr and Mrs McEwan or their children?” Phryne asked.  
The Matron skimmed through a box containing filing cards on the desk.  
“I have no one here with that name.” she reported.  
“Did you ever personally treat Mrs Ali?” Phryne asked. She was grasping at straws at this point but any information they could gather might help in the end.  
The matron’s face fell a little.  
“Yes. Poor woman. I treated her just a couple of weeks ago and apparently she came back in last week again. Good thing for him I was out of town, I might have just gone to the police myself, no matter what she said.” she sighed deeply.  
“I wish we didn’t get as many women like her. Or that we at least had the authority to do something for them. Most of them won’t even hear of the police.” she huffed angrily, “It’s always ‘I fell’ or ‘I hit my face against a window’ or ‘I was clumsy’. Worst case ‘he didn’t mean it’.”  
“‘It was all my fault.’” Phryne finished the sentence for her.  
The words tasted like bile in her mouth. Judy gave her a knowing and appraising look. After a moment she nodded. “That’s what they keep telling them,” she agreed, “and most of them believe it, at least for a while.”  
“It’s better than accepting the alternative that you’ve given your life to a bastard and you don’t know how to get out.” Phryne said, almost thoughtlessly.  
Her mind had wandered back in time without her permission to a studio in Paris, the familiar feeling of being trapped, helplessly stuck suddenly threatening to suffocate her. She had only been entrapped by her own fear, her own mistaken love for the bastard. She shuddered at the thought of being legally bound by him. Being married to a man she would be dependant on him, bound, not just by laws and vows, but economically, socially, in all manners of ways. If that man turned out to be one like René there truly wouldn’t be a way out other than the police and god help the woman who tried that and didn‘t succeed. No, she could understand they didn’t want to take the risk. A wave of warmth pervaded her at the thought of Jack who had so perfectly understood that when she had told him about her time with DuBois after their interview with Mrs Ali. Jack, a man she was sure she would never have to fear anything from, who had instinctively understood her and even asked her not to marry him. Suddenly she really wanted to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Launceton Hotel was founded in 1838. It still exists, putting probably among the oldest pubs in Adelaide. It was renamed Grace Emily’s Hotel in 1998. Ben is entirely my invention though.  
> I again borrowed a lot of research on the workings of the Australian Police forces at the time from Scatch_Pad for this chapter and the last.


	24. Abandon her Fears

Phryne and Inspector Eder met up with Jack and Constable Maar at the telephone operator’s office. Eder had called ahead from the station so they would be expected. Therefore they were greeted in the lobby by a man who introduced himself as Mr Edward Franklin, the department head.  
Mr Franklin was a tiny, wiry man with thick glasses who had a habit of wringing his hands.  
“What a dreadful tragedy.” he kept repeating, “Such a tragic loss.”  
“You had another tragic loss recently, didn’t you?” Eder inquired, “One of your girls?”  
Franklin’s eyes narrowed in confusion.  
“A Miss Barrowby. She took her own life a few weeks ago. She did work here, didn‘t she?” the Inspector hinted.  
The other man’s face cleared, but only marginally.  
“I may have heard of that.” he surmised vaguely.  
“You don‘t know if one of your workers committed suicide?” Jack asked.  
The question was rather blunt, but he was doing his best to hide his incredulity behind his usual mask of sarcasm and stoicism. Franklin already deeply appalled him, but he also knew that the man wouldn’t react well if he let it show.  
“We loose girls all the time” the hapless department head defended himself against a wall of official looking faces, none of which showed any sympathy.  
“They marry, they have children; plenty of them run off without a word. I can’t keep track of all of them; that’s what the division supervisors are here for. McEwan was with us with us since the war, kept his division running like a dream all this time, no complaint, no troubles in years. He was good with the girls.” Franklin sighed at the loss of such a paragon of the work force.  
“Yeah, I bet.” Constable Maar muttered under her breath.  
“We’ll need to interview the women who worked under him.” Eder declared, pretending he hadn’t heard his officer’s comment.  
“You’ll have to wait until their shifts change.” Franklin disagreed immediately, “We can’t have the boards unattended.”  
“Constable Maar can take them out one by one, so you’ll only be one woman short at a time.” Eder suggested cooly. “I’m sure you can cover that.”  
He wasn’t willing to give the odious little man in front of him an inch.  
“Maar, you lead the interviews, maybe Miss Fisher would like to assist you, if you’re alright with that?”  
The two women exchanged a glance and nodded. Neither of them was particularly looking forward to this task but both their faces showed grim determination.

Three hours after their arrival at the telephone exchange Phryne and Constable Maar returned to the station. They were emotionally exhausted and the only thing still fuelling them was a hot and righteous anger. For two and a half hours they had talked to the operator girls in McEwan’s division. Their tales had been depressingly similar, told in hushed voices and under the expressed condition it wouldn’t go anywhere further and no details please. The picture of John McEwan that emerged was unsurprising but none the less repulsive: The man had by all accounts not believed in the concept of personal space where women were concerned and had equated the term single woman with fair game. A few of the women had hinted he hadn‘t been deterred much by rejection, although none of them had been explicit enough for the investigators to be sure how far he had gone. At the mention of Amelia Barrowby half of them had clamped up, the other half burst into tears.  
“I’d recommend we get Miss Carrington and Miss Lacey in for further questioning.” Miss Fisher suggested.  
Maar nodded in agreement. “We’re fairly certain Florence Carrington was one of McEwan’s favourites and Sarah Lacey might be willing to talk, away from the office.” she explained. “She seemed eager, but worried. Some of the girls indicated that Franklin knew what was going on, but looked the other way, provided he could have his pick whenever he felt like company himself.”  
She fought for a neutral look on her face but failed utterly to disguise her disgust.  
“It seems those two mistook an office full of women for their personal harem.” Phryne spat.  
She was pale with fury in a way Jack had only seen once on her, at the sight of a convent laundry.  
“I don’t assume any of these women would be willing to testify regarding those abuses of power.” Eder guessed.  
“They’re worried they’ll lose their jobs or worse.” Maar confirmed, “I couldn’t promise them certain convictions either. Getting these kinds of charges to stick...” she trailed off in dismay. “Most of them probably didn’t put up much resistance for fear of being dismissed if they didn’t comply. After all it’s not like a complaint would have led anywhere with Franklin covering it up. And I doubt any of them thought the police would help them much.”  
She sounded a little bitter at the last sentence. The other cops in the room nodded in unison. Indecency charges where always tricky and no one liked dealing with them because they were both unpleasant and hardly ever went through successfully, unless the perpetrators were caught in flagrante delicto.  
Phryne looked from one to the other.  
“Fortunately” she said coolly, “there are other ways. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have a few calls to make.”  
Eder all but offered her to use his office, even though neither he nor Constable Maar could imagine exactly who she could call that would make a difference. Jack on the other hand had seen enough of the power of the feminine, and more so the power of female networks, to have no doubt she would achieve something.  
“Mrs Stanley?” he asked when she emerged somewhat sedated.  
They might have been in a different state, but he had no doubt Prudence Stanley was well connected and influential enough to wield power on a different continent, if she so choose. Phryne gave him a slightly amused look at his refusal to call her aunt by her given name. Yes, technically he had the right now to call her Aunt Prudence, but it would be a cold day in hell before he would be able bring himself to do that.  
“No need to wheel in the heavy artillery just yet, Jack.” she replied with a smile, “Although I will reserve that option should all else fail. No, there are resources much closer to home. Do you remember Catherine Lornsdale? She of the unfortunate fashion choices?”  
“She of the stolen jewellery, you mean?” Jack corrected her, vaguely remembering a somewhat bland woman that had unwittingly given them the clue to solve the robbery cases when they met her at Gloria Grady’s dinner party.  
“Yes, that, too.” Phryne conceded, “Well, I may have overheard that she is a rather close friend of the Postmaster General’s wife.”  
Jack nodded sagely. “Ah. How fortuitous.”  
“And she also happens to be most grateful for the return of her valuables.” Phryne added innocently.  
Inspector Eder stared at her with the mixture of awe and slight terror that was a familiar sight on male faces around Phryne Fisher in Jack’s experience. Constable Maar on the other hand grinned outright.  
“You don’t do moderate, do you?” she asked.  
Phryne shrugged but her smile was wicked. “I find the values of moderation are highly overstated.” she quipped.  
“Remind me never to get on your bad side, Miss Fisher.” Eder muttered. She shot him a bright smile that was entirely too innocent.  
“If you want to stay on my good side, you’ll catch this murderer with me.” she stated, “Let’s get those girls in.”  
“I think we’ve put those ladies through enough for a day.” Jack demurred, “Give them a night to reassemble.”  
Phryne was about to protest, but Eder nodded gratefully.  
“Probably a good idea. They’ll be more amendable if they had a good night’s sleep. Besides today’s interviews have probably left us with enough paperwork to keep us warm until January. And as you’re not partaking in that...” he trailed of.  
“If you want to stay on my good side, this is not the way Inspector.” Phryne warned him.  
“Let the man do his job, Miss Fisher.” Jack intervened.  
She was successfully donning her usual mask of careless joie de vivre and he had no doubt that making that telephone call had helped her letting off steam, but he knew all too well, that experiences like today couldn’t just be shaken off. He understood her itching for movement, he shared it to a degree but he also knew that there wouldn’t be any more movement on this day. It would do her no good to run herself and everyone around her ragged.  
“Come on, Miss Fisher. There is somewhere I wanted to show you.”

Ben saw them the moment they entered the pub and immediately a flicker of recognition crossed his face.  
“Every time a different girl, Inspector.” he greeted them with a wink, as he ushered them to a table  
“This is my fiancée, Miss Phryne Fisher. Mr Farley is the owner of this pub and a family friend of Constable Maar.” Jack introduced them to one another, “He was very helpful with the investigation into Mr McEwans whereabouts.” he explained to Phryne.  
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr Farley.” she shook his hand with a dazzling smile.  
“All mine, I’m sure.” he replied with a grin, “And please call me Ben. You don’t run a pub and remain a Mr for very long.” he added. “So you know our Chrissy?”  
Phryne’s eye widened at hearing Constable Maar being called that so affectionately.  
“I’m a private detective and I’m currently assisting the police with their investigation. Constable Maar and I spend a good deal of today working together.”  
Ben gave her the look of a man who has now officially seen everything.  
“And I was just about to ask how you two met. S’pose I can guess now.” he commented good naturedly.  
“There was a murder involved.” Jack supplied dryly.  
“And you never looked back.” Phryne supplied cheekily.  
“On the contrary, Miss Fisher. I very frequently look back, whenever I feel the need to remember what peace and quiet felt like.” he deadpanned, but not without affection clearly visible in his eyes.  
“Miss it?” she challenged, holding his eyes without blinking.  
“Not a moment.” he returned breaking out in a smirk.  
Next to them Ben chuckled.  
“You guys still need a place for the reception?” he offered with a wide grin, “We have very nice rooms, too, upstairs.”  
The two detectives exchanged another look. Both of them remembered their recent engagement party and the stressful weeks leading up to it. The murder happening during the preparations had almost come as a reprieve.  
“Definitely worth considering.” Phryne decreed with a brilliant smile. She might not actually have any plans to get married, but it could never hurt to consider all options. “If we decide to elope we’ll come here.”  
Ben grinned satisfied. “Deal.” he said.  
“In the meantime, what can I get you two lovebirds. Can’t say I ever had a lady like you in here. Almost feels a bit wrong to offer you some pale ale.” he admitted.  
Phryne shrugged. “I could make due with that. As long as it’s not Whitten’s.” she added with a shudder.  
Ben made a faced. “Wouldn’t give that brew to my horse if I had one.” he stated.  
“In that case I’m sure we’re quite safe with your best recommendation.” Phryne decided sending another radiant smile toward the publican who was not immune to it one bit.  
“Righto, two ale coming up.”

“I don‘t think I’ve ever seen you drink beer before.” Jack observed as she nipped daintily on her pint a few minutes later.  
“It’s not beer, it’s ale, Jack. I’m sure there is some difference.” she contradicted him with a wink, “But you’re right of course, I don’t drink either very often. Not out of any snobbery I can assure you. Although a good wine or whiskey is very similar to silk underwear: A luxury I quite enjoy. But mostly it just used to remind me of my father when I was young.” she admitted.  
Jack nodded. He knew enough about her childhood and her father to be able to imagine from that sentence just how cheap ale might relate to a pre-baronetcy Henry Fisher and what kind of memories that combination would create.  
“Used to?” he asked carefully.  
“Yes.” she stated defiantly, “I’ve decided it’s time I made new memories. Memories of people like Ben and Chrissy Maar, Bert and Cec and Hugh. You know, good people who drink ale without any problems. After all it’s not like their aren’t monsters who drink whiskey, either. And this is actually quite good.” she added with a smirk and another sip at her drink.  
Jack could only stare at her. Just when he thought she couldn’t possibly amaze him any more, in the midst of a case that had to remind her of all the horrible men her life had been full of, she just decided to turn the darkness to light. She took something that symbolised those years of suffering to her and simply turned it into a symbol of hope instead, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to even just know her.  
“I love you.” was really all he could say to her in that moment.  
Her face softened. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time the Postmaster General would have been in charge of the telephone lines.


	25. A Faithful Guardian

They stayed at the pub until closing and headed back to their hotel for dinner. They had agreed to stay in tonight as neither of them felt much like going out.  
Jack waited with Jane in the lobby for Phryne to finish getting dressed.  
“I had another letter from Dot, today.” she told him, “Actually from her this time.”  
“So she is recovering?” Jack inquired.  
Jane nodded. “It seems so. She is back to walking around the house and her mother has returned to her own house. Mrs Martens, Hugh’s sister, still comes around every day though.” she reported, “She says the baby doesn’t let them get much sleep at night, but she is healthy and doing fine. She says she smiled properly for the first time last week and now she does it all the time. Whenever she’s not crying.”  
Jane paused for a moment.  
“Did you want children?” she asked suddenly, “When you were with Rosie I mean.”  
Jack frowned as he thought about it.  
“I don’t know.” he said honestly.  
She gave him a suspicious look. “How can you not know that?”  
“Because I never asked myself that question back then.” he explained, “It never occurred to me that having children was a choice, you know. It didn’t feel like one. It felt more like an inevitability. I fell in love with Rosie, we married and eventually there would be children. The natural order of things. Inevitable, like gravity.” he shrugged.  
Jane gave him a curious look.  
"So you never decided to have children or not to have children?” she asked.  
Jack shook his head. “In the beginning we tried to avoid it. We were young and in love and we thought there would be enough time. Then the war happened and when I came back the last thing on either of our minds were children. After that everything fell apart. There were a few times over the years when we thought it might have happened but by then our marriage was already so wrecked it was more of a relief when it didn’t.”  
Secretly Jack was rather amazed that he was confessing all this to Jane. He wasn’t normally so open about neither his marriage nor his feelings, and it occurred to him that this was a completely inappropriate conversation to have with a teenage girl who might or might not consider him a father figure. But somehow it felt safe to tell her. Actually it felt important to tell her. Jack’s more parental relationship with Jane was still very fresh and he tried to be as honest with her as he could, trying to give her as much of him as he could to forge, no, to strengthen the bond forming between them. He wasn’t entirely sure she would understand, but he knew for certain she would never judge. Jane regarded everything with a kind of scientific curiosity and that and the fact that she was being raised by the most open and generous woman in the world meant she never judged. She just took his feelings as facts to be analysed, possibly referred to in future instances. Right now she scrutinized him with an unreadable gaze.  
“And now?”  
Jack shrugged once more.  
“I have accepted that it won’t happen and I’m alright with that. Sometimes I think it might be nice but it’s not something Phryne wants and between you and her I’m more than happy. I’m certainly not willing to risk what I know to be wonderful for something that might be nice. So you have no need to worry.” he added cheekily.  
“I’m not worried.” she cried, blushing furiously.  
She hesitated a moment, analysing what he had said.  
“I didn’t know she doesn’t want children.” she said thoughtfully.  
Anything else she might have wanted to say was cut of when Phryne finally glided into the foyer and Jane was far too busy to be embarrassed by Jack gawking at her.  
“You know she is still wearing a dress.” she muttered sulkily.  
“Just about.” Jack commented surprisingly dryly, considering he had a hard time tearing his eyes off the woman in front of him, who rewarded him with a saucy smile.  
Jane rolled her eyes and stalked off towards the dining room. The two people she had more or less accepted as her parents followed her arm in arm, looking thoroughly besotted with each other. Confusingly that made her happy in equal measures as it annoyed her. She sighed and focused on the menu in front of her. Most of her feelings where confusing these days. She tried not to let it bother her, just like she tried not to let it bother her that Jack clearly had a very hard time keeping his hands to himself. Neither of them succeeded completely.  
Jane concentrated harder on her choice for dinner. The asparagus soup sounded nice.

“So how is your case going?” Jane asked innocently, not raising her eyes from her soup.  
Phryne gave her a chastising look.  
“Jane...” she started, but the girl interrupted her before she could even begin.  
“I know, I know, you don’t talk about work over dinner, because you want me to have a normal childhood, as if that ship hasn’t sailed a long time ago. And I’m really grateful for that, too. But now I’m asking. I don‘t need any details I just want to know how close you are to solving it. Should I expect us to leave in two days or can I make plans for the weekend in two weeks?”  
The two detectives exchanged a look. Jack shrugged. Your choice, his eyes told Phryne. She gave him a look that called him a coward for pushing the responsibility on her.  
“I honestly don’t know.” she gave in with a sigh. “Right now I feel like we’re only moving in circles. We have a new victim and as unpleasant and informative today was, I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been here before. Several times.”  
“Mr Farley confirmed our mystery woman,” Jack pointed out. “At least now we can be sure we’re dealing with the same perpetrator as in the Melbourne cases.”  
“But we still have no idea who she might be.” Phryne complained, “All we know is she is fairly attractive and has dark hair.”  
“That’s not exactly a detailed description.” Jane observed.  
“Right now it’s the best we have.” Jack sighed, “Unfortunately can’t let all dark haired women in Adelaide come in to stand in a line up so our witness can identify her.”  
“That’d be a very long cue.” Jane agreed with a chuckle.  
“I still think our best chances are the hospitals.” Jack continued, “Miss Barrowby must have been known in at least one of them, maybe she told someone what made her desperate enough to jump into the river. And she must have gotten those pills somewhere.”  
Phryne nodded in agreement. “Hopefully we can get something from our interviews of Florence Carrington and Sarah Lacey tomorrow.” she sighed. “For once I can actually not wait for this case to be over.”  
For a while they continued to eat in silence each absorbed in their own thoughts. Phryne continued to sift through the facts of the case in her mind, trying to ignore the more personal aspects. In cases like this she sometimes whished she had Jack’s ability to compartmentalise or Mac’s to look clinically at the facts without getting emotionally involved. Not that either of the two was cold hearted, quite the opposite, they both where among the dearest most compassionate people she knew and Phryne knew for a fact that they felt deeply. But they were so much better than her at detaching themselves from the gruesome aspects of their work, to not feel everything personally. She knew that her empathy was partly what made her a good detective, that and her tenacity and her attention to detail, but sometimes she wished she could let it go, let it not affect her. It would be so much easier sometimes.  
She wouldn’t have been surprised to know that Jack shared that wish for her sake. He knew how hard it was dealing with those cases that felt like they were almost about you, like it could have been you. He had learned the hard way not to let his work affect him, even if he didn’t always succeed. Ironically the war had helped him with that. Surrounded by death and misery he had to learn not to be affected as a matter of survival. The fact was that he had learned it so well he had had trouble letting anything affect him when he had come home. One of the reasons his marriage had failed in the end. He had slowly re-learned to open up again, in no small part thanks to Phryne, but he was still very careful to not let his work get too close to him. Phryne it seemed had never built these walls. She always felt everything, allowed herself to feel everything, while he shied away. He didn’t know how she did it, not only with her sanity intact but actually seeming to draw strength from it. It put him in awe of her, almost more than her brilliant mind. But still, he worried that one day it might all become too much. He worried that this case might be the moment when it did.  
He tried not to think about it, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate his concern, at least not in its full extend. Instead he tried to consider the facts of the case. He wasn’t looking forward to the interviews tomorrow. His expectations in regards to their helpfulness were rather modest, realistic he preferred call it. On the other hand he was fairly sure they would be unpleasant, both for the women and the interviewers. But he reminded himself of his conversation with Phryne on their second night in Adelaide. They needed to listen because no one else would.  
Jane tried to estimate how long they would be staying in Adelaide, assuming the two detectives would crack the case and the killer wouldn’t move town again. She had little doubt that they would eventually crack it, in her experience they always did, and she was still young enough to have unshakable faith in the two people who had saved her from the life she had been destined to live. This case was different, true, it was already the longest they had ever taken to catch a murderer, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Despite Phryne’s efforts to shield her ward at least a little from her professional life, Jane had a healthy interest in criminology. She had read more Police Annuals and crime reports than she would have admitted to, had anyone asked her, so she knew that statistically the chances of the murderer to get away grew slimmer and slimmer with each murder. It was only a matter of time until they caught her. She didn’t worry much about that.  
It was another thing that she couldn’t get out of her mind, something Jack had said earlier when they had talked about Dot’s letter.

After dinner Jack decided to go for a walk. The air in the dinning room felt oddly suppressive and he yearned to get some fresh air into his lungs.  
When he announced his decision the two women looked at him like he had lost his mind.  
“It’s cold and dark outside.” Jane pointed out.  
“And the whiskey is in here.” Phryne added.  
“The whiskey isn’t going anywhere.” Jack replied dryly.  
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” she retorted with a smirk.  
“You don’t need to come with me and I won’t be long, I’ll probably only head around the block.” he declared undeterred.  
Phryne and Jane shook their heads in disbelieve but eventually shrugged it off. If he wanted to be cold and miserable. who where they to tell him nay.  
“Do you want to come to my room for a bit?” Jane asked, almost timidly.  
Phryne smiled happily. She felt like she hadn’t spent enough time with Jane on this trip. Not only was there a murderer to apprehend, but she sometimes couldn’t help wonder if Jane minded that she spend so much time with Jack nowadays. The two of them got on like a house on fire, there was no doubt about that, but Phryne couldn’t bear the thought that her daughter might feel like she had to compete for her attention.  
“Of course.” she said gleefully, “Provided you don’t make me watch you read the entire time.”  
Jane grinned. “You can always borrow any of my books if you’re bored.” she teased.  
The two continued to squabble and chat amicably all the way up to the room. They settled on Jane’s bed continuing to talk. Jane told Phryne about her new friends in town and about Dot’s letter, which made Phryne clap her hands in delight.  
“When did you decide you didn’t want children?” Jane asked suddenly. Phryne frowned in surprise.  
“During the war.” she replied never the less, without hesitation.  
Her daughter nodded thoughtfully.  
“That makes sense, I guess.” she conceded.  
“Why do you ask?” Phryne wanted to know.  
Her daughter shrugged. “I guess it’s been on my mind, with Dot and all.” she answered vaguely.  
“And you wondered if I’d be next?” Phryne asked sarcastically.  
“Well, you and Jack are awfully fond of each other.” Jane countered cheekily.  
“We are also extremely careful.” her foster mother stated, matching her tone.  
“You could always change your mind.” Jane pointed out.  
Phryne shuddered slightly. “To be honest Dot’s ordeal has rather confirmed me in my opinions.” she said firmly.  
Jane considered that. “It really was bad, wasn’t it? Is it always like that?” she asked.  
Phryne shrugged. “According to Doctor Mac it can take less time apparently, but it’s always extremely painful. I really don’t know why people are so keen to put themselves through it. Sometimes repeatedly.” she shuddered again in horror.  
“Maybe having a baby at the end of it is worth it.” Jane hazarded.  
Phryne shook her head, more in incredulity than denial. She couldn’t quite help remembering her first meeting with Dot’s baby and was still not sure how she felt about it, a state of affairs she decidedly didn’t like.  
“Another thing that eludes me. Most children are rather horrid creatures in my experience. At least the first twenty years. You are a very rare and pleasant exception.” she said pointedly and wrapped her arm around her daughter.  
Jane returned the embrace somewhat stiffly.  
“Is that the reason you don’t want children?” she asked. From the sound of her voice there was clearly something else that was bothering her.  
“One of the reasons. There are many. In the end I just realised it’s not something I want.” Phryne replied carefully.  
“But you adopted me.”  
“As I said you are the exception.”  
Jane looked at her doubtfully. “But you couldn’t know that then, you only knew me for a few days.”  
Her foster mother smiled warmly at her. “I had a feeling.” she said.  
“I never knew,” Jane admitted quietly, “that you never wanted any children. I had no idea. I talked to Jack earlier about Dot’s letter and children and he said it, like it was common knowledge. But I never knew.”  
All over sudden she seemed close to tears. Phryne took her daughters face between her hands. “Jane, listen to me. It’s true I never wanted children and I still don’t fancy the idea of being a mother but when I met you I couldn’t _not_ keep you and I promise I haven’t regretted it even for a moment, do you understand?”  
Jane could only nod. “Not even when I ran off to my mother?” she whispered.  
“Not even then.” Phryne told her sternly.  
They both seemed to take a deep breath and then Jane hugged her fiercely.  
“But you still don’t want more children?” she asked when she let go, her usual cheekiness gradually returning to her voice. Phryne gave her an admonishing look.  
“No, I don’t. So I wouldn’t expect any siblings in the near future.”  
There was no real change in Jane’s face. Her expression remained perfectly neutral in fact. Clearly she had been taking lessons from Jack. But something was there that made Phryne hesitate.  
“Is that why you’re asking?” she inquired after a moment, “Do you want siblings?”  
Jane pulled a grimace that relayed her uncertainty.  
“Sometime I think it might be nice.” she admitted.  
Then she suddenly burst out laughing.  
“Jack said the same thing, when I asked him earlier,” she explained, “that it might be nice.”  
A wave of something not unlike fear washed over Phryne at her daughters words. She and Jack had talked about this at the beginning of their romantic relationship. She had always been clear that children and marriage weren‘t things she was up for or was ever likely to be. Back then he had assured her he was fine with that. But as Jane had just pointed out he could have changed his mind. The tightening in her chest was oddly and unpleasantly reminiscent of the pain she had felt back in Melbourne last week when she had let her fear take over her judgement. She battled it down, determined not to make the same mistake twice. She would talk to Jack and listen to him, before jumping to conclusions. That’s what a reasonable person would do, wasn’t it? Jane hadn’t noticed her mothers concerns and her voice cut through Phryne’s worries.  
“Do you know what else he said?”  
Phryne shook her head, currently not trusting her voice.  
“He said, he’d never risk what he knows to be wonderful for something that might be nice. I think he may be right.” the girl smiled, “It’s kind of nice to have you both for myself. At least whenever I don’t have to share you with a murderer.” she added with a theatrical eye roll that made Phryne throw a pillow at her.  
When Jack returned ten minutes later the two were engaged in a full scale pillow fight, giggling and screeching so loudly that he came knocking on the door, asking if everything was alright. Phryne made it to the door under heavy fire and managed to pull him in before she launched a counter attack, pulling him after her into the heat of battle.


	26. Twin Entreaties

The first woman to come to the station to be interviewed was Florence Carrington, the girl Phryne and Constable Maar suspected had been the recipient of their latest murder victim’s close attentions.  
Miss Carrington was a petite blonde with the biggest brown eyes Jack had ever seen on a human being. She kept squinting though, probably to compensate for spectacles she was either to proud to wear or couldn’t afford. Looking at her both options seemed possible.  
Unsurprisingly she was nervous and a little worried about having been summoned. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she was now faced with an office full of people all looking at her. The urge to get the details of this case directly was warring with the part of Jack who knew they wouldn’t get anything out of her like this and told him to leave the interview to the other detectives.  
Phryne had no such qualms and she found herself mildly surprised when Jack eventually cleared the office, a slight tilt of his head signalling her to follow him. She frowned. She had no intention to leave now, when they could learn potentially the one vital clue that would lead them to the killer.  
His eyes conveyed exasperation but continued to urge her to come with him and leave the witness to the Adelaidean investigators. ‘You don’t have to do this, they will tell us everything they’ll learn’ they told her.  
Her eyes narrowed and her frown deepened. ‘We’ve had this discussion. You don’t really expect me to step back?’ He didn’t really, did he? Not after everything they had already talked about over the last few weeks in relation to this case. He knew she couldn’t just abandon it. And she never liked relying on second hand information if she could get it directly from the horse’s mouth. Neither did he.  
With a small turn of his head and a look he managed to communicate that too many people in the office would most likely intimidate Miss Carrington and be more of a hindrance than a help. The amount of information he could convey with such a small gesture was rather impressive. It didn’t do much to convince Phryne though. As usual, she acquiesced his point, the woman would be more likely to talk openly to one or two people, but she completely refused to accept a reality in which she wasn’t going to be one of those two people. The light shrug she gave told him as much. Jack clenched his jaw at her stubbornness. Fortunately any further argument was interrupted by the young Constable whose name Jack kept forgetting.  
“There’s another lady here for you, Sir,” he announced, “a Miss Lacey.”  
Florence Carrington looked surprised and then a little relieved at the mention of her colleague’s name. Inspector Eder nodded. He had noticed the silent exchange between his guests, and even if he couldn’t follow the details of their wordless conversation, the gist of it was clear. He had also noticed Miss Carrington’s unease at the number of people she was facing. It didn’t take a genius to realise that Miss Fisher was unwilling to relinquish her position in interviewing the woman but he was a little wary of her temperament. She was clearly quite sympathetic to these women but from what he had seen over the last week she tended to be a little rash and take things too personally. The fact that Robinson clearly wanted her out of the room was a hint he decided not to ignore. In the end it came down to familiarity. He had no doubt Miss Fisher was a capable detective but he didn’t know her well enough. Having Maar conduct the interview with him, he knew she would say exactly the right things at the right time. She had the experience in dealing with exactly those cases and she had enough emotional distance, something he wasn’t too sure about with Miss Fisher.  
“Thank you, Constable.” he said amicably, “Please take her to the interview room and offer her a cup of tea. Maybe you would like to assist Inspector Robinson in interviewing her, Miss Fisher?” She seemed torn for a moment, even though she instantly recognised that it wasn’t a suggestion. With a last querulent look at her partner, daring him to gloat, she nodded and followed Inspector Robinson outside.

Phryne was a little cross that she had been ousted from the interview with Florence Carrington but if she was being entirely honest with herself she was glad about it, too. Not that she would ever have admitted to that. She would have preferred to be present at both interviews rather than just one, the one that was potentially the less interesting one at that. However, it was true that splitting up was more efficient and kept them from overwhelming their witnesses with their sheer number. She was just not used to Jack not being the leading officer in an investigation. The thought hit her somewhat surprisingly. They had investigated cases before where Jack had been subordinate to other police officers before, their time in England came to mind, where he had had no official standing at all, which had of course kept neither of them from investigating the murders that had inevitably happened around them. It was still not something she was overly familiar with; usually Jack was the one sweeping in as the highest ranking officer taking over an investigation.  
Under normal circumstances the implication that this affected her at all, let alone gave her the feeling of being slightly wrong footed, would have galled her. She had to admit to herself though that these weren’t normal circumstances and she couldn’t help a surprising wave of something akin to homesickness coming over her. It wasn’t exactly the place she was missing so suddenly but the feeling that came with it. She missed simple, regular murders in Melbourne where she and Jack could investigate family members, servants and acquaintances, and run their own show the way they did best. And she missed having Hugh and Dot, their respective trusty right hands helping them. Constable Maar was a fascinating woman, very capable and Phryne had come to like her quite a bit but she was Eder’s woman, and she couldn’t help missing Dot’s brilliant comments and her eye for detail. Everything was just so much easier and more satisfying when they investigated at home.  
She shook her head at the silly notion. Jack was here, they were investigating a murder together, everything else was mere circumstances, wasn’t it? Forcefully she shoved her unease aside and focused on the woman sitting opposite her at the interview table.  
Sarah Lacey was tall, dark haired and slightly older than her colleague, though that didn’t mean much. She was also decidedly less nervous. She sat very straight and met the detectives’ eyes without hesitation.  
“Why, he was a terrible flirt.” she said lightly when Phryne asked about McEwan’s behaviour around the women in the office.  
Her voice had the professional bright lilt of someone who works in customer service and the polished finishing school accent required in her job but Phryne was sure she could hear a certain brittleness underneath her carefree tone.  
“In my experience it usually doesn’t stay at flirting with men like him.” she stated casually, “Did he ever do more than that?”  
Miss Lacey shot her a quick measuring look.  
“Not to me.” she replied, still keeping her voice light, yet meaningful.  
“But to other women in the office?” Jack inquired.  
“I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead but I don’t think I’m telling you any secrets, Inspector. Everybody knows what kind of a man he was.”  
She lowered her eyes demurely to the table, before they shot up again, wide with a sudden thought. “Oh dear, his poor wife. She will be devastated.” she exclaimed and for the first time Jack thought she was actually being genuine.  
“Do you know Mrs McEwan?” Phryne asked hiding her surprise.  
“Oh no, not really. I only met her once, at the office Christmas party last, no, two years ago.” Miss Lacey wrinkled her nose delicately, “He got awfully drunk that night, he and Mr Franklin, too. But she seemed quite nice. Very devoted.” for a moment her bubbly facade slipped just a little, “It must be hard for her. They have children, too, don’t they?”  
“You knew Amelia Barrowby?” Phryne continued, willing the image of the mourning widow from her mind.  
Miss Lacey seemed surprised.  
“Amelia? Yes, of course. Dreadful what happened to her. Just ghastly. She was such a sweet thing. We were all so shocked.”  
“But surely it didn’t come as a surprise?” Phryne insinuated.  
Sarah shook her head. “No, you couldn’t say that. But it still came as a shock. You never really expect something like that, do you? She must have been truly unhappy.”  
“Do you know why?” Jack asked gently. He started to suspect that behind the frivolous persona there hid a very compassionate woman. One who had probably learned to hide that perceived weakness for her own sake.  
“Not exactly. She didn’t confide in me, or anyone that I could tell.” she leaned forward a little as if passing on a secret, “Mr McEwan was very fond of her for a while though. Not that I think she would have ever given in to anything untoward.” she hastened to add, avoiding the eyes of the detectives,  
“She was a very good girl, in church every Sunday and always at home by nightfall. But Mr McEwan could be quite persistent. And she did come to the hospital that one Saturday afternoon.” she trailed off sounding a little more uneasy.  
“I help out there, you know, Wednesdays and Saturdays. They’re short on nurses, so I do what I can, you know, reading the beds, washing bandages, things like that. I saw her come in the week before...” she broke off, closing her eyes.  
“What hospital would that be?” Jack asked.  
Miss Lacey’s eyes flew open and she seemed to gather her usual air of brightness and airiness up again. “The Wakefield.” she said sounding almost as light-hearted as she had at the beginning of the interview.  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look. The name of that hospital came up much too often in this investigation. ‘There is no such thing as coincidence’ was the thought they shared.  
“Have you ever been to Melbourne, Miss Lacey?” Jack steered the conversation seemingly in a different direction.  
“Why, of course, I was born there.” Sarah replied with a bright smile. “We only ever moved here when daddy came back from the war. He was shell shocked, you see. He couldn’t take the noise in the big city.” Once again her tone threatened to veer from cheery into hysterical.  
Jack tried to ignore it. He judged the woman opposite him no older than twenty-five. He didn‘t have to imagine what growing up with a shell shocked father must have been like. He had seen similar scenarios with too many of his mates and comrades. He moved on as quickly as possible, pushing the memories aside.  
“And have you been back recently?” he asked instead, sounding as calm and composed as ever. Not enough for Phryne of course, who surreptitiously placed a hand on his back.  
Miss Lacey didn’t seem to notice anything. She was probably too glad to move on herself.  
“Easter, last.” she said, regaining her bearing again, “I always go to see my aunt.”

"Dark hair, a connection to the hospital and to Melbourne.” Phryne observed when the young woman had left. Jack nodded thoughtfully. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  
“But she hasn’t been to Melbourne in nearly six months.” he pointed out.  
“That’s she’s told us. You’re usually much more quickly to think people lie, Jack.” Phryne observed, “We always thought it was someone who had come from Melbourne to Adelaide, but what if it’s the other way around?”  
"You mean someone came from Adelaide to Melbourne and returned?"  
She nodded eagerly. "There were a lot of events in those weeks in Melbourne, all those conferences and awards and fundraisers. People came from all over the place."  
The furrows in his brow softened a little. It wasn’t much but to her eye, trained in observing the subtleties of his expressions, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.  
“That could be possible.”  
She clicked her tongue, disappointed with his restrained enthusiasm.  
“I bet my hat that’s how it was.”  
He raised an ironic eyebrow at her. “And which one of the approximately fife hundred hats that you own would that be?” he asked dryly, “We’ve already established the red felt one doesn’t suit me and I’m not accepting the pink one with the feathers.”  
The image of Jack sporting that particularly gay and frivolous piece of millinery was so absurd Phryne couldn’t help a barking laugh.  
“You couldn’t pull off the pink one with the feathers.” she decreed haughtily once she could breathe again, “And it’s only 42.”  
“Only.” he said with an amused smile on his face.  
“Well, not all of us can go through life with a total of three pieces of headgear.” she replied, smiling back.  
For a moment they just fondly looked at each other and it struck Phryne how glad she was that he was here with her. He knew her well enough to know exactly when she could bear a joke and when she needed a shoulder to lean on. It occurred to her that he was only the second person in her life to know her that well and she had already fast plans to make a call to Melbourne tonight to talk to Mac, even if the connection was going to be terrible and the cost exorbitant.  
In the meantime she had enough time to prove to him, first that she was right and second that she knew him just as well.  
“What bothering you?” she asked with a pointed look to his restless fingers that gently tapped out an inaudible rhythm against each other.  
“I’m not sure.” he admitted, “Something about her statement, something about the hospital, I think.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m wrong with my conference theory, do you?”  
He just rolled his eyes. “No, Miss Fisher, I believe you are probably right as usual.” he shook his head, “There is something else, I just can’t...” he broke of and his frown returned with a vengeance.  
“Didn’t you say Amelia Barrowby had never been treated at the Wakefield Hospital before she was brought there after her overdose?” he asked, digging through his memory of what she had told him about her trip to the hospital yesterday.  
“Yes,” she confirmed, “That’s what the hospital records the matron showed us said.”  
Jack’s eyes returned to the present and focused on her. “Then what was she doing there the week before her death?”  
Phryne’s eyes widened. “Sarah Lacey saw her Saturday before she took an overdose of sleeping pills. Pills she could only have gotten with a doctor’s prescription.”  
Their eyes met, sharing the same thought. “Someone in the hospital gave her those pills.”  
“They must have realised what she had wanted them for when she was brought in a few days later.” Jack noted.  
“If they felt guilty over her death that would definitely be enough to seek revenge on the man who had driven her to it.” Phryne agreed.  
A smug smile stole onto her face.  
“We were definitely right about the hospital.”  
Jack nodded. “So our murderer is most likely someone from the personnel, someone who has access to the medical cabinet.”  
„Add to that the description of our suspect that should sufficiently narrow it down.” Phryne’s eyes gleamed with excitement, “At least enough to let Ben Farley take a look at a line-up. And of our witnesses in Melbourne can confirm her identity...” she beamed at him.  
Jack couldn’t hide a smile at seeing her usual excitability return. He had missed this side of her over the last few days and weeks, the part of her that loved the thrill of the chase and made her seem more vibrant the closer she got to her quarry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pink hat with feathers is the one Phryne wears in episodes 1 and 2. She probably has more hats in total, but I didn’t feel like counting and some of them get redressed and reused (as they probably would have been). Also 42 is the answer to everything so it felt quite apropos.


	27. Sleepless Restlessness

“It’s still too many.” Constable Maar groaned. Jack and Phryne had just shared their findings from the interview with Sarah Lacey with her and Inspector Eder.  
“How is that possible?” Phryne cried incredulously. They had finally narrowed it down to one hospital and where reasonable that this really was the connecting element.  
“They may be short on nurses, but there are still 10 nurses and midwives working at the Wakefield, not including volunteers, board members and other female personnel working there. We’re looking at 20 to 30 women who go in and out at all times, who probably know exactly where the keys to every cabinet in the building are kept and how to get them. And the majority of them have dark hair of some description, even if we don’t consider the possibility that she could have worn a wig or died her hair.” Maar explained.  
Jack felt Phryne deflate next to him. He had to admit he, too had gotten his hopes up that they might have made a decisive step forward. Having them so thoroughly crushed chafed.  
“Maybe we can narrow it down to the people who were at the hospital the day Miss Lacey saw Amelia there.” he suggested rather weakly to his own ears. But this was how they had to proceed, he reminded himself, methodically, step by step by step. They were closer than they had been in weeks, they just shouldn’t expect everything to fall into place suddenly. He nearly smiled at the thought that working with Phryne had almost let him forget that that wasn’t usually what happened in police work: Most of the times you didn’t solve the case with some brilliant leap of the imagination. It was far more common to simply weed through the suspects, eliminate one by one until only one remained. Eliminate the impossible and what remains must be the truth. Of course Phryne never operated like that but he had actually fared quite well with that method before meeting her.  
"Then we can eliminate the ones that are too old or too young." he continued his train of thought.  
Eder nodded. "And then we’ll have to verify alibis," he sighed deeply, "That’ll be all we’ll be doing the next three days." He turned to Maar, "Constable, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too close this, you know most of these women personally and not only strictly professionally, if I’m not mistaken."  
Constable Maar’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to respond but Eder anticipated her complaint.  
“I’m sorry Chrissy,” he said sympathetically but firmly, “it’s not that I think you would let your personal feelings get in the way or that you’re not professional, I know you are. But when we catch her I can’t risk this case going belly up because some pettifogger implies you aren’t.” he impressed on her, “I’m sorry, but you can’t be the one doing this. Brief Arnold and Nees on the situation and tell them to report back before the end of their shift.”  
Maar nodded curtly and left the office without another word. Her lips were a tight thin line. Jack couldn’t fault Eder’s choice, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the Constable. It was difficult enough to work a case that involved people you were close to but being sidelined, unable to do anything was easily worse. He had to admit to himself that he didn’t always have the same grace in dealing with those cases Eder had. If he had, he would have pulled Hugh from the case involving his Woolpacker friend and he would have stayed out of the Lavinia Holloway case. He shuddered to think how that one would have gone in court. Only the circumstance that George had shot Burke and the fact that Commissioner Hall had wanted that case closed as quickly and quietly as it had still been possible, had spared him a severe reprimand. And his involvement had none the less doubled the paperwork. The fact that both his superiors had only done so because they had had vested interests in the case themselves pretty much told him how wrong the whole proceeding had been handled. The thought left a bitter taste in Jack’s mouth.  
"What did Miss Carington tell you?" he asked to get his mind back to the case in front of him.  
"Nothing we didn’t already suspect." Eder sighed, "He made advances and didn’t take no for an answer. She was afraid to loose her job, she has her parents to think of, her father lost his job last year and so forth. Sad story and McEwan is the villain who took advantage of it." he sighed.  
"Apparently his interest was short lived, however, from the sounds of it it always was, and he moved on to Miss Barrowby just over two months ago. She was just glad to be rid of him and didn’t know if he’d been taken an interest in anyone after her, and she had the early shift the day before he was killed, so she left before he did. Went home and spend the day with her father and little siblings."  
"At least she has a solid alibi." Maar commented.

The rest of the day turned out to be just as Phryne had feared, long trudging through suspects. Eder had impressed on his constables that he wanted every female member of the hospital staff questioned about their whereabouts on the nights in question. He didn’t want to spook the killer into running again, so he ordered the inquiries to be one by one and as discreetly as possible. That of course slowed down the process considerably. But under any circumstances it would have been tedious, time consuming work, and none that Phryne could greatly help with. Jack at least went with Constable Nee, to confirm the alibi’s given, so he was being driven all over town, while Phryne was pacing in the station and finally gave up and decided to take a ride herself. She played with the thought of going to the hospital and sniffing around herself, but she had to agree with Eder that the risk of scaring the killer was too big. Once more she missed Dot tremendously. This would have been just the kind of undercover mission her right hand woman would have excelled at. So instead she drove south until she reached the coast.  
The weather had significantly improved since the last rainy weeks in Melbourne, but it was still early spring and not the best day for going to the beach. The sky was covered and a sharp wind tore at her as she stomped along the shore. In summer the place was probably nice, at least when one wasn’t too wound up. They even had their own version of Luna Park, although as Phryne came closer she noticed that the rides where still being constructed and a poster on the fence informed her that Luna Park Glenelg was only due to be opened in October. Another thing that wanted her to wait. Fitting for a day like today, she brooded.  
She took of her shoes and stockings and dipped her feet into the water instead. It was freezing, but it felt good to stand there, have the water pull at her feet and the wind at her coat, one hand on her hat and her shoes in the other. She closed her eyes and let the wind blow through her.

She spent nearly an hour at the beach before she got too cold and she returned to the city. Back at the hotel she decided to take a long, relaxing bath and an early cocktail with it. Settled in, warm and content, she mulled over the facts in the case once more. Was there anything else they could do to reduce the number of suspects? Would the alibi checks even solve their problem? Most murderers who planned their deeds also planned for an alibi in her experience.  
There had to be a better way to flush out their murderer. She knew Jack would tell her to let the police handle it, let them do this methodically and by the book and they would have their woman in a couple of days. But in a couple of days she might have left the state again for all they knew.  
Once she got out of the bath she dressed slowly. It was still a long time before she could even think about dinner. Jane was still out, who knew where, probably being the only one of them who actually had some fun in this wretched town.  
She took a peek into Jack’s room to see if he had returned from the station already. He had and had apparently settled down on the bed to wait for her to come out of the bath. The open book on his lap told her as much. But it seemed the wait had been too long and the day, or maybe the last weeks, had been to exhausting, so when Phryne put her head through the door, Jack sat on his bed fast asleep.  
She was slightly torn between annoyance that he could so easily sleep when everything was so frustrating and they were so helpless, and the urge to cuddle up next to him and take a kip herself. Instead she quietly closed the door and headed down to the reception. "I’d like to make a trunk call to Melbourne, please."

"Things really must be dire, when you make a call halfway across the country to me." Mac said dryly. Her voice was slightly muffed, but all in all the connection was surprisingly good.  
"They’re not. Not really. I’m just heartedly sick of this town and this case." Phryne sighed.  
"Already tired of having Jack and Jane all to yourself?" her friend teased.  
"Well, I am sharing them with a murderer." Phryne pointed out.  
"No movement in the case then?" Mac asked seriously.  
"Actually yes, we have a solid lead. A methodical investigation should lead to an arrest in a few days."  
"So you’re bored." Mac deduced.  
"Yes. No. I don’t know." Phryne frowned at her own uncertainty. She really needed to get back on track; it just didn’t do to be so out of sorts. She took a deep breath and summoned her usual airy personality. "As you’re well aware the methodical part is more Jack’s forte. Unfortunately he is right and there isn’t much I can do at the moment. That might be part of why I’m a little annoyed with it."  
"Uh hm." Mac managed to sound sarcastic even just humming, "And you’re sure there is nothing else to it?"  
"Nothing either of us can do anything about, so there’s really nothing to say about it." Phryne replied breezily, "Tell me what’s happening in Melbourne instead. How are Dot and the Baby?"  
To her great relieve Mac laughed and seemed willing to let it go for the moment.  
"You should worry more about Hugh. Between the baby keeping him up all night and his mother in law coming over every day, I don’t know when he last slept. He came in the morgue yesterday. The way he looked, if he had laid down on the table, I would have cut him open."  
Phryne tried very much to convert her giggle into a sympathetic tut. She was only partially successful. "Poor, dear Hugh. But Dot is fine, I presume?"  
"Fit as a fiddle. Me and Mr B are having a hard time getting her to take it easy. But she’s young and strong; she is fine. And little Mary is strong and healthy."  
"Could you imagine ever wanting children?" Phryne asked abruptly.  
"Where did that come from? You’re not thinking about it?" Mac sounded surprised, which was only fair Phryne suspected.  
"I am actually. Not changing my mind, obviously. But I’ve been thinking about it. What it means, why I don’t want it, why people do. You know, Jane asked me the other day. I never realised but she didn’t know I never planned on having children. I’m not sure if she thinks it’s a good or a bad thing."  
"Knowing Jane she probably just accepts it as what it is. That girl is surprisingly sensible for a sixteen year old." Mac stated, "At least in that regard she is clearly not your flesh and blood."  
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Phryne tried to sound indignant but she had an all too clear idea what Mac was referring to for it to be anywhere near genuine. She had been a rather wild teenager even by her own admission.  
"You were the most brash adolescent there ever was." Mac replied immediately, "Not that anyone can really blame you. Jane has the distinct advantage of not having to deal with your parents on top of everything. But she would never attempt to break in through Mrs Reed’s second story window for a snog."  
Phryne grinned at the memory. "Not for a snog." she amended mischievously. She could almost hear Mac roll her eyes.  
"Have I ever told you, you have really terrible taste in men?"  
Phryne laughed. "Jack will be so pleased to hear you say that."  
"Well, even a broken clock and all that." Mac teased, "Apart from that, I think he’d agree.  
“Not that I’m an expert," she added serious after a few more chuckles, "but I think you should keep this one, Phryne. I can’t see a much better model come along."  
"I’m not sure they make them." Phryne had to agree, memories of Jack over the last few weeks flooding her mind and she let out a deep sigh. "He really has been marvellous through all of this. Even though he really needs to stop taking your side all the time." she added not willing to let the conversation return her to her maudlin mood.  
"I always thought he was intelligent." Mac countered, "Good thing that we’re usually both on your side."

Phryne felt decidedly better after having talked to Mac. Her friend’s dirty humour and grounded attitude had been just what she needed. So what if she couldn’t do a thing about the murder at this point. She could still spend time with Jane and enjoy the last days in Adelaide while the police did the usual boring part of the job. She nearly laughed out loud. She was really loosing her edge if she was so easily persuaded no to meddle. For a split second she wondered if that was what being with Jack did to her? Was she subtly being domesticated by that man? The thought send another wave of anxiety through her body. She pushed it away. She had promised herself not to let her past frighten her anymore. Jack wasn’t Rene, in fact he was as different as a man could possibly be, she reminded herself, yet again. Jack didn’t try to chain her, he would never do that. He was a police officer and as such he had to stick to the rules and while she was working with him, well, maybe she didn’t need to completely stick to them, she had agreed to consider him.  
But maybe she could inquire about volunteering at the hospital tomorrow. After all she did have a lot of time on her hands now. If she happened to overhear something, well, not even Jack could say anything against that.  
Happy and full of renewed energy Phryne returned to her room where she all but ambushed her favourite Inspector and made sure he knew exactly how much she appreciated him. Mac was right after all, they didn’t make them better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Eliminate the impossible and what remains must be the truth” is a quote that appears in variations in several Sherlock Holmes stories, first in ‘The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet’ in 1892.  
> Luna Park Glenelg opened in October 1930 and closed in 1935 because of tensions between the owner and town counsel, about rents, opening hours and the resident’s complains about the park attracting the wrong kind of people. The rides and amusements relocated to Sydney to open Luna Park Sydney in the same year.


	28. No Favour Lasts Long

On their second day in Adelaide Jack had asked at the hotel front desk where he could borrow a push bike. Like any good representative of his profession the concierge hadn’t bat an eye and merely asked when he’d need it. The same afternoon a brand new bicycle was waiting at the back of the Hotel for him. It was a marvellous bike that had Jack already mourning the day he’d have to return to his own old bone shaker that he had owned since before the war and had patched up more times than he could remember. So for the moment he thoroughly enjoyed his morning rides on the shiny new pushbike.  
Nowadays, when he was at home, he rode mostly along the waterfront, but here, similar to what he had done for years, before he had moved into Wardlow, his rides followed the river up and down. He had also inquired for a map of the area on his first evening so he wouldn’t get too lost but especially in the beginning he stuck to the small stream that faithfully guided him, always beginning and ending the ride at the bridge nearest to the hotel, next to the rotunda in the park. He had to admit that the vast parklands and the hills surrounding the city made for very pleasant rides, with the city only rarely coming in direct contact with the river.

On the third morning after they had found Jono McEwan’s body, he was just on his way to his usual starting point, pondering which direction to take today, when he came across what he had hoped to be able to prevent another time: A bent over figure kneeling inside the rotunda. It didn‘t take a second look to see that the figure was wearing his trousers around his ankles, leaving him with a suspicious lack of indecency on display. Jack cursed under his breath, turned towards the railway station and stepped in the pedals as hard as he could.

He dropped the bike heedlessly outside and headed straight for the next attendant.  
"You need to call the Police," he told the man without preamble, "there’s a dead man down at the rotunda. Call North Adelaide Station, ask for Detective Inspector Eder. Tell him it’s related to the Boyd case."  
He hoped that information was clear enough for the DI and wouldn’t arouse any suspicion from the attendant. Other than Hollinghurst, Ali and McEwan, Boyd’s murder had stayed somewhat under the radar of the press, so the name would hopefully not immediately ring any alarm bells. Once he had seen the man scuffle to administration office, Jack turned around and hurried back to his bike. Two minutes later he was back at the hotel lobby. The concierge raised a concerned eyebrow.  
"That was a short one, today Mr Robinson." he stated, "No injury, I hope?"  
Jack only shook his head.  
"Please deliver a message to Miss Fisher’s room." he ordered, "Tell her to meet me in Elder Park as soon as she can. Say I found number five. If she’s not up yet call on Miss Ross instead." he added.  
The concierge frowned a little but nodded. With that confirmation Jack headed back out to return to the rotunda to guard the body until the police arrived.

The crime scene was similar to the others. A man, he was wearing a fashionable, but inexpensive suit, tied to one of the poles of the rotunda by his braces, his trousers wrapped around his ankles, a handkerchief in his mouth and his most private parts missing. The pool of blood had spread out over the floor of the structure soaking into the wood and dripping down the steps. As with the previous victims, a trail of droplets let down towards the water of the river. It was a longer way than in the other cases Jack noted, as he tried to keep early members of the public from trampling over the crime scene while he waited for Eder and his people.  
A superficial examination ascertained that the latest victim, unlike Mr Ali had not taken a vow of sobriety. The man reeked of, what Jack assumed to be, sly grog. Not that that came as a surprise. From his excursion on Hindley Street with Jane the other week and his work with the local police Jack knew that there were plenty of pubs and illegal watering holes nearby. As usual the victim hadn’t gotten far after their night of indulgence.

Phryne arrived at the same time as the police. She must have been up already. He tried not to think about what plans she had had that demanded her being up so early. After knowing her nearly three years he was not naive enough to think she would just sit this case out and leave it to the police.  
Now that Jack knew the local officers a little better, he noted that Eder had chosen his troupes wisely: apart from Chrissy Maar, who looked serious and professional, he had brought a seasoned Sergeant, who shuddered but kept his composure securing the scene. Two more constables rounded up the team; both men who had clearly been to the last crime scene already. None of them looked particularly comfortable but they would manage without retching over what little evidence they had. Most of them even managed to walk relatively normal.  
“So we can assume our murderer has definitely returned to her usual modus operandi.” Phryne suggested wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from the victim.  
“Looks like it, Miss Fisher.” Jack agreed.  
Eder threw a look at his watch.  
“I reckon our best guess would be the watering holes on Hindley and North Terrace, but at this time there won’t be a soul awake there. I’d say we stick to the usual procedure in the meantime: get the poor bastard to the morgue as soon as the photographer is done and see that we identify him.”  
Phryne concurred with Jack that the scenario was familiar by now and didn’t seem to show any divergences from the ones they had encountered in Melbourne.  
“Except, of course, this one was killed with a roof over his head.” Miss Fisher pointed out, “She could have tied him to a tree or a lamppost, like the others. But she put him up here, almost on a pedestal.”  
Jack nodded considering her words. “Maybe she wasn’t happy with the press coverage so far.” he tried to joke, despite the circumstances.  
“She definitely wanted him to be seen.” Phryne agreed, ignoring his weak attempt at humour.  
“Doesn’t look like she left anything behind this time.” Eder observed with a heartfelt sigh.  
“No footprints this time.” Jack agreed at the sight of the surrounding lawn. It had finally stopped raining three days ago and the ground had dried enough to not allow for prints under the grass.  
“And nothing in the clothes as far as I can tell.” Phryne added straightening up from her perch next to the body.  
“I wonder if she waits around to make sure they’re dead.” she mused, surveying the surrounding. The rotunda made for a good vantage point over the park and the river but she knew from her few days in this city that it was also an eye-catcher and anything inside it could be observed from almost every angle. The murderer must have been very sure that no one would walk along the park that late at night, even on the streets. Either that or she had deemed it worth the risk to present he victim so exposed.  
Phryne wondered if this time the connection might be personal.

"He had papers with him. His name is Eugene Smith. He lives in a guesthouse near the barracks. His wife died just before the war, no children. Worked as a milkman." Maar handed Eder the file. The Inspector nodded. "Question the owner of the guesthouse, and his employer. Anything you can find about women in his life and connections to the hospital." he ordered. "I’ll talk to the coroner and keep Arnold and Nees on checking those alibis.  
"Any preferences as to what you want to do?" he asked Jack and Phryne.  
"I doubt the coroner will tell us anything we don’t already know." The lady detective commented. Jack could only agree, even if he didn’t say so aloud.  
"So the guesthouse." he suggested.

"So what got you out of bed so early?" Jack asked, once they were on their way. Constable Maar had eagerly agreed to let them take the Hispano. She was currently coming to regret the decision as Phryne sped around corners. Jack tried not to look.  
"Why a murder of course, Jack." she replied breezily.  
"You were suspiciously quick at the crime scene, considering you didn’t drive." he pointed out.  
"Well, I was woken up by someone creeping out my bed at the crack of dawn."  
"Phryne!" Jack hissed with a fretful look at Maar in the back seat.  
The other woman just grinned. "Oh, don’t mind me." she assured him cheekily despite her death grip on the seat in front of her. Jack held her eyes for a moment, realising that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of them united. It was an eerily familiar feeling and he had to amass considerable willpower to not allow himself to show his resignation through a heartfelt sigh. Instead he turned back to Phryne, ready to take the bull by the horns. Or the cow as it were.  
"That has never woken you up in months." he stated.  
"That you know." she countered immediately.  
The look on his face was the one that clearly said ‘you can do better than that’.  
"Fine," she conceded, "I might have had plans for today. You were the one who told me to occupy myself while the police do the methodical work."  
"And since when do you listen to me?"  
"Jack! I told you, I always listen to you."  
"Yes, so you can ignore what I said." There was no point in fighting the sigh this time, "And what plans did you have?"  
"Oh, nothing that can’t be rescheduled." she waved her hand dismissively, prompting a horrified gasp from the back seat.  
Jack ignored the lurch in his own stomach. He had suspected that she had been up to something less than harmless; to be honest he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t, and her dodging the direct question confirmed it. Well, she had been surprisingly compliant during this whole investigation. In fact he only just realised, she had refrained from any ill advised activities on several occasions during this case, always at his request.  
Jack frowned at that realisation. He didn’t regret asking her not to go undercover as a prostitute or skulk around graveyards at night. He had been right to ask her not to and the potential results had in no way justified the risks. But he couldn’t help wonder if she would have listened to him six months ago. He had promised her he’d never ask her to change and he had meant it, he still did. He didn’t want her to change. Her devil may care attitude and devotion to her cases to a point of self denial where parts of her, reasons why he loved her. He wanted to protect her but not at the cost of her personality. The memory of their fight assaulted him, the things she had accused him of. For one horrible moment he considered if she had been right.  
He calmed himself quickly. He never tried to control her. He had asked her, not ordered her and while he would have worried sick had she gone anyway he would never have punished her in anyway. But did she know that? If she felt like she had to censor herself to accommodate him, was that in any way better?  
Phryne clearly misinterpreted his frowning silence as him waiting for an explanation. She huffed a sigh.  
"Fine, I was planning to volunteer at the hospital and have a look around. I’m not saying I’d find anything but at the very least I could help out and who knows what might come up." she defended herself.  
And in the worst case you startle our murderer into running and we’ll never find her again, Jack thought. But he didn‘t say it. Instead he allowed a tiny but genuine smile to play around his lips. No, it took much more than a worried police inspector to cage the untameable spirit of one Phryne Fisher. Thank God.  
"I wouldn’t have expected anything else." he said warmly and the gleeful smile she shot his way made his heart leap almost painfully.  
"I’m sure they would welcome your help with open arms." Chrissy threw in, equally oblivious to Jack’s moment of panic, "Once all of this is over and you still have a few days left I’m sure Judy would be all too happy for any helping hands. I think she liked you. "  
"You’re assuming Judy isn’t our murderer." Jack noted.  
Maar laughed. "You’re right, I do. I’ve known Judy for years. Besides she wasn’t even treating Mrs Ali."  
Phryne stepped on the breaks so hard Jack nearly flew through the windshield.  
"Jesus, Phryne!" he yelled.  
"Oh Jack, I’ve been so stupid." she exclaimed. He didn’t even have time to throw her an inquiring look before she launched into her explanation.  
„Judy didn’t treat Mrs Ali the last time because she was out of town. I didn’t think about it when she mentioned it, but that must have been around the time Boyd and Hollinghurst were murdered."  
"You think she was in Melbourne?"  
"Where else would she have been, Jack? Everything fits too well to be a coincidence."  
"I think she mentioned that her husband was attending a conference in Melbourne." Maar said, "But surely you don’t think..." she broke off.  
The two detectives in the front exchanged a look. Then Phryne engaged the reverse and tore the Hispano around with panache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rotunda in Elder Park was shipped in from London in 1882 and until 1907 the Park was called Rotunda Park. Due to legal issues the Park in its entirety wasn’t completed until 1927. To my knowledge there was never a murdered body found in the Rotunda. If you have other information please don’t tell me, it would ruin one of my favourite places on the planet.


	29. To Show One's Guilt

The ride to the hospital was potentially even more break neck than Phryne’s usual speed but maybe it was just because Jack found himself in the incredibly uncomfortable position of having to turn around and look back. His survival instinct screamed at him to not take his eyes off the road and his fingers clung to the leather of the backrest in a white knuckle grip. His sense of duty, however, won out.  
"Who of your colleagues is at the hospital at the moment?" he asked, shouting over the headwind, the roaring of the motor and the honking of the other unfortunates on the road.  
Maar looked at him, wide eyed. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was panic or if she simply thought he had gone insane. Both were distinct options and neither was unreasonable.  
"Constable Arnold." she gasped after a moment.  
Jack nodded. He had not been sure there would be anyone at the hospital right now but since they were still checking alibi’s he had hoped someone was there gathering statements.  
"I need you to listen to me very closely," he said as insistently as he could manage under the current circumstances, "once we get there, I want you to go and find Constable Arnold. Send him to us. You call the station and tell them we’re bringing the matron in. Then you go back to the car and you wait there. Under no circumstances can you be anywhere near the actual arrest, understood?"  
She still gaped at him. "You’re going to arrest Judy?" she asked, still sounding a little dazed.  
"We’re merely taking her into custody. She will be formally arrested and charged once we have confirmed that she was in Melbourne during the time of the murders." Jack said gravely. He wanted to add that he was sorry. He could see in the Constable’s face that she could barely believe what he was telling her. She had been friends with that woman and had clearly trusted her. He could empathise all too well with the feeling of betrayal she must be going through.  
"You know what," he suggested, "why don’t you just wait in the car. We’ll find Arnold ourselves. You don’t have to be there."  
She continued to stare at him as if the world had stopped making sense. Then she shook her head and her eyes turned steely. "I do." she disagreed, "I have to be there. I need to see that it’s true."  
Jack felt the overwhelming urge to massage his temples, but that would have required for him to let go of the backrest while Phryne was taking corners like a race car driver. So he settled for a deep sigh.  
"You don’t want that, believe me. If you’re there, you’ll have to be at the trial, have your entire career and your friendship picked apart by attorneys and judges. You’ll have to face her, not just this once, but again and again and it will only get harder."  
Chrissy nodded understandingly but her face remained determined.  
"But if I’m not there, I will always wonder if it’s true. There will always be that little doubt that maybe she didn’t do it, that it was a set up or sloppy work or... Nothing personal, just ..." she broke off, but Jack was sure she could see the understanding in his eyes. Suspicion was the nature of every good copper and that went against crims the same way as against one’s own colleagues. Trust no one but yourself. How could he argue with that, if it had been that same reason he had commandeered the Holloway case, just so he would be sure George would get treated fairly? Because he had trusted no one with that investigation but himself. And Phryne. He nearly smiled at the memory. Despite everything that had happened in the aftermath he had some good ones of that case.  
He sighed again and nodded. "Fine. But stay back. Let us do the talking. Don’t get close, don’t interfere."

Matron Lorrimer was doing inventory when they came in. She greeted Maar and Phryne amicably and didn’t raise an eyebrow when Jack introduced himself.  
"Have you been in Melbourne this month, Mrs Lorrimer?" he asked.  
"I have." she replied with a solicitous smile, "My husband was attending a conference and visiting an old university friend in Melbourne. Dickie Forbes got an offer for a position in Adelaide and wanted to hear my John’s opinion about it. We came back nearly two weeks ago."  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look. "In that case," Jack announced heavily, "I have to arrest you for the murders on Charles Boyd, Roger Hollinghurst, Chanu Ali, Jonathan McEwan and Eugene Smith."  
Judy nodded, without even flinching. "Of course, Inspector. Let me just get my coat and leave a note for Ellen the day nurse."  
Chrissy stared at her in utter incredulity. "That’s it? That’s all you have to say?" she exclaimed.  
Judy gave her a warm, but unrepentant look. "I have a lot to say but nothing you’ll like hearing. I’m sorry, if I disappointed you, Chrissy, but I won’t apologize. Those pigs got what they deserved."  
"You..." Maar made to step forward, but Jack anticipated her move and put a hand on her arm.  
"Constable, please find Constable Arnold and tell him to bring the car around." he said calmly.  
Chrissy looked furiously between him and Judy. "But..."  
"Now." He didn’t raise his voice, it was hardly necessary, but it was clear he would not tolerate insubordination. Maar held his eyes only for a second, before she lowered her head and stepped outside.  
"I’ll take her back in the Hispano." Phryne offered. Jack nodded gratefully. The further away Maar was from their suspect the better. He remembered all too well the furious rage that had flared in him when he had discovered Sanderson’s treachery. That violent urge to hurt him the way he had hurt those that had trusted him.  
"I have disappointed her, haven’t I?" Judy seemed almost wistful.  
"You betrayed her trust." Jack said coldly.  
She looked at him evenly. "Then that’ll be my only regret."

At the station Eder left Phryne and Jack to take Judy’s confession. Phryne and Chrissy had arrived first and Phryne had informed him about the latest development. When Jack and Arnold arrived a few minutes later with Judy in tow, the Chief Inspector offered to step aside.  
"It’s better like that." he said. "She and my wife help with the war orphans fund together." He sighed deeply. "I have no idea how I’m going to explain that to her."  
When they entered the interview room, Matron Lorrimer was still very composed, waiting. She was still wearing her coat and had been given a glass of water out of which she took a sip while the detectives arranged themselves at the table.  
"I don’t expect you to understand," she said, "but I had to stop these monsters. I couldn’t let them go on the way they had. I couldn’t keep watching it and do nothing."  
"Why don’t we start at the beginning?" Jack suggested, "You and your husband went to visit Melbourne and you started to kill people. I don’t suppose you chose your victims before that trip?"  
She shook her head. "I was there that day the prostitute came in." The polite expression on her face vanished as she recalled the events, "Mrs Forbes was giving me a tour of the hospital. John wanted us to become friends, since she and her husband were planning to move to Adelaide. She had to rush off to somewhere and I ended up in the waiting area next to that pregnant woman when the two working girls came in. Her friend was formidable." a faint smile ghosted over her face, "She half carried her friend in and all the while she was cursing Boyd enough to make the air turn blue. I doubt anyone in the entire hospital didn’t hear her. The woman next to me was frozen in shock. Until she started to cry."  
"Joyce Reynolds" Phryne realised.  
Judith nodded. "She told me everything. How Hollinghurst had kept her like his personal toy, having his way with her whenever he felt like it. The child was his of course and she was terrified her husband would find out. She was right from what I heard." Mrs Lorrimer took a deep breath.  
"I had planned to kill Ali for months. It all started with him. His wife was in our hospital every other week. If it wasn’t some laceration or tear he’s given her, it was some strange accent. Slipped with a knife, accidently took too many sleeping pills, that kind of thing." she shook her head dolefully, "I had made plans for him, thought it all through, before we went to Melbourne. But that day I realised I could try it out on one of those men, somewhere where no one knew me and would ever find me. It was even easier because I could just get them drunk and I could do whatever I wanted with them. That was always going to be the trickiest part with Ali. But it worked out in the end." she shrugged. “John is working himself to an early grave at the firm, he never even realised I wasn’t sleeping in my bed, when he got home late and in Melbourne he’ be out with Dickie or the people from the conference and didn’t notice either. It was almost too easy.  
"McEwan made me realise though that it would never end. I could spend years, even decades killing every pig of a man I hear about and there would still be more. There will always be more." she sounded very tired as she said it, “He was the only man working in a building full of women. And he just picked them of, one by one and no one said a thing even though everybody knew.” her voice became a little strangled.  
“I gave that girl the pills. She came to the hospital, she had a receipt. I guess it was a forgery or maybe she convinced a Doctor, I don’t know, I just gave her the pills. I only realised when I read about her death in the paper three days later. I went to her funeral even. There I heard the women from her work whisper. And last week one of them came in, I recognised her immediately. Same story as all the others. The boss got her in trouble and she needed help, or she was gonna go in the water. Married she was and couldn’t bare to face her husband about it. Same as Joyce, same as Amelia, same as God only knows how many. I killed McEwan, but I realized there’s no point. To make things better I would have to kill them before, but that’s not possible, and I can’t get them all, so all I do is fight against windmills."  
She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "So Eugene was the only one left I needed to kill. My own personal devil, I needed to slay him before I could end it.  
"He was my father’s best mate. Me and my brothers used to call him Uncle Gene. He’s known me since before I could walk. Always told me I was a pretty girl, even when I was a toddler. Brought me presents, got invited to all the birthdays, all of it. He was my favourite of my parents’ friends until that summer trip to Stirling. I had just turned fourteen then." He eyes glazed over and her voice softened as if she was lost in the fondest memory, but her face blank and eerily cold.  
"That was the first time and then he just kept on going whenever he could get me alone. And he found many ways to get me alone. I could never tell anyone, because he threatened he’d say I was lying, or that I had seduced him. And who would my father believe? The girl who loved wearing lipstick and pretty dresses and talked back at him, or his best mate, a man he’d been to war with?"  
Phryne swallowed bile as she listened. She tried to remind herself that murder was a more heinous crime than rape, but as she listened to Judy’s story there was a small nasty voice in the back of her head that told her how that could have been her. That little girl taken advantage by her father’s mate could have been her or Janey. Henry certainly had brought enough seedy characters into their home. He might not have thought her a liar had she told him one of them had taken advantage but he probably wouldn’t have cared either. And then there was Dubois.  
Suddenly she felt Jack’s warm hand on her knee, like a led weight, tethering her to the here and now, to what was good and right.  
"I expected you to come and find me." Judy continued, "I’ve been waiting for weeks for it. I’m glad I still had time for Eugene, but I knew it would the last straw. It’s almost funny, he didn’t even recognise me until I had his testicles in my hand." she sighed, "It will be hard for John, but he never cared much for me anyway, I don’t think. If he did, he might have noticed."  
She took another deep draught from her glass and then emptied the remainder calmly onto the ground.  
The gesture was performed so calmly and naturally, as if it where a perfectly normal thing to do, that it took both Jack and Phryne a moment before it clicked. They jumped to their feet simultaneously, Jack heading for the door and Phryne for the woman who placed the glass daintily back on the table.  
"We need a Doctor. NOW!" Jack’s voice bellowed through the Station.  
Phryne tried to reach for Judy, but her hands were deftly intercepted and held tightly.  
"They won’t make it in time." Judy said quietly. She met Phryne’s eyes and held on to her hands despite the other woman’s struggles.  
"It’s better this way." she said. "Easier. They were going to hang me anyway."  
Suddenly her body was wrecked by convulsions. Her hands released Phryne’s but at this point all she could do was hold the other woman through the seizure, listening to her breath stutter and fail.  
By the time Jack got back, it was over.  
Despite her shock, or probably because of it, her deeply ingrained nurse’s instincts took over. She settled the dead woman back in the seat, making sure she would not slid off, closed her eyes and placed her hands in her lap. The actions were automated, while her brain scrambled to catch up with what had happened. It had been the water, the water or something she had taken just before the interview. It must have been a fast acting toxin, likely something she had access to in the hospital. The autopsy would clear that. She had said she had expected to be arrested for days, so she must have planned for the occasion. She couldn’t have taken it in the hospital, they had always had an eye on her then, so she must have taken it while she had been alone, waiting to be interviewed.  
Phryne stood up and straitened her clothes, while her mind kept prattling on in that way. She couldn’t yet think about what that woman had done and why.  
Her eyes met Jack’s, who was standing in the door with a grim look on his face.  
"She’s gone." she said.  
Jack nodded. He held out his hand to her and she took it, let him lead her out of the room, through the mayhem that had erupted at Jack’s desperate call for a doctor. He stopped at the front desk, where a young Constable was on the telephone frantically talking to the hospital. Jack caught his attention by taking the earpiece from his hand. "Call the coroner." he instructed the flustered young man.  
Eder came out of his office when he heard Jack’s voice. Maar followed him. "Too late?" he asked. Jack only nodded.  
"Did she confess?" Eder asked.  
"Yes."  
The Adelaidean detective let out a long, relieved gust of breath. "Then it’s over." he said.


	30. Epilogue: What was, What is and What will be

_I don’t expect you to understand._  
The sentence echoed endlessly in Phryne’s head, even days later, under the pristine azure sky over Kangaroo Island.  
The trouble was that she did understand. She did understand and it had never bothered her so much.  
The fact was that she had felt the exactly same when Dubois had been in Melbourne. She had only been able to face the man, or even pursue him because of Bert and Veronique. Had it been only her and the painting, she had to admit to her shame, she might have just let it go, just hoping he would leave the country and never come back, no matter how naïve that way of thinking was. Had she known that she was his only victim, she could have lived with it. But the moment she had realised Dubois had been behind the killings and that Veronique had been caught in his web, she had known she had to stop him, no matter the cost.  
And she, too, understood the wish to kill the man who had visited these horrors upon you. She remembered the feeling of pressing a gun to the monster’s chest, looking him in the eye and releasing the safety. In that moment she had been ready to kill him if he had made a move to threaten her. Oh, yes, she understood. And she had protected another who understood before.  
She had always suspected that Veronique had intended to kill Dubois. There was no other reason for her to have been at Café Repliqué on that day, less so armed with a ridiculously large knife. While the way the monster had found his end had clearly been an accident, she was convinced it was exactly the result the older woman had hoped for. She, too, had been ready to commit a crime, to be hanged, in order to stop a monster. But other than Judy, Veronique had walked free, Dubois death was ruled an accident and no one asked too many questions, not even Jack. But to be fair, Jack usually knew when to stop asking questions, more so than she did.

"Phryne? Are you coming?"  
Jane’s voice tore her from her thoughts "We can’t dawdle if we want to make it back to Penneshaw before nightfall. I don’t want to get stuck in the bush in the dark." her ward declared.  
Phryne gave her a carefree smile. "If we’re late, I’m sure, we can call someone to pick us up at the light house." she suggested lightly. "There’s no need to rush and I’m rather enjoying the scenery."  
The girl looked her critically up and down. "I told you to take proper shoes." she said flatly and turned around to skip further ahead. She of course was wearing very sensible hiking boots. Out here, where it was just the three of them, Jane seemed a lot younger again. Maybe she just allowed herself to be less grown up, away from prying eyes, Phryne mused. But then she opened her mouth and was Jane as she had always been, more mature than Phryne had ever been, or had any intention of ever being.  
She was right about the shoes though. Phryne shifted in her Mary Jane’s. They were a lot more comfortable than many of her other shoes and had proven their worth in various cases, when she had been forced to scale buildings or chase criminals in them, but she had to admit they weren’t ideal footwear for a cross country hike. She pondered if she should just take them off and go barefoot.  
Jack seemed to enjoy the hike, too. The tension of the last weeks had melted from his body and his face, which he held happily into the still weak rays of sunlight as he waited for her to catch up. It had been his suggestion to take the trip after all. She and Jane would have been content to return directly to Melbourne but he argued that her initial plan had been to explore a bit of Australia and they had done pitifully little exploring yet.  
"You’re normally better at this." he told her when she came up by his side.  
"And what would that be?" she asked coquettishly. His smile widened.  
"Exactly this: brushing things off, living in the here and now. I’m usually the serious one." he chuckled.  
She sighed. "I suppose I have been a little moody lately." she took his arm and snuggled up to his side, warm and strong, once again tethering her to the moment. "Thank you for putting up with me."  
He gave her a tender look. "You’ll get over it. You know that some cases stick with you, but you’re strong enough, you’ll get through it."  
"I just can’t stop thinking, Jack, that it could have been me." she admitted.  
He stopped dead and turned to face her. "It could never have been you, Phryne." he declared.  
"You don’t know that, Jack. I was ready to kill Dubois."  
"But you didn’t and you wouldn’t have. Not in cold blood."  
"How can you know that?" She searched his eyes for the answer, to find why, how he could be so certain, when she herself was not.  
"Do you remember when you told me I always did the right thing?"  
She nodded, of course she did. He held her eyes, looking as serious and determined as he was able to. Normally he only had that look when he was seriously warning her off a danger and actually meant for her to listen to him. "I’m not the only one."  
She kissed him, the way she had wished he had done the night she had told him those words. She kissed him, holding on to the good and the right that was present in them being together, trying to convey her gratitude for his trust and support and seemingly endless patience. She kissed him until Jane audibly cleared her throat.  
"We talked about this." The girl complained.  
"There is no one around for miles to see." Phryne laughed, even as she and Jack somewhat unwillingly separated.  
"I’m not no one." Jane said pointedly.  
Phryne grinned wickedly but went back to merely taking Jack’s arm.  
"Could you adopt Jane, Jack?" she asked as they continued their hike together.  
His eyebrows flew up.  
"I’m not sure that’s legally possible, when we’re not married." he said after taking a second to gather his wits, "But I could find out." He gave her a sideways glance. "Would you want me to?"  
"Well, it would of course be Jane’s decision, but I doubt that any better candidate for a father will come along any time soon."  
Jack scoffed. "Why, thank you." he said sarcastically.  
"I would also like it, if you were each other’s family," she added quietly, "since you are both mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.  
> A massive, big Thank You to everyone who commented and left kudos, and especially those who kept coming back nearly every day. It’s been so much fun reading your thoughts on my story. You guys had the amazing talent to always compliment exactly the parts I felt most insecure about which was a great help :-D Thank you.


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